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tampered2007-04-14 04:08 pm
bitingnightmare.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-04-14 04:08 pm
Log; Complete
When; Apr. 14 (late morning)
Rating; PG-13 (language)
Characters; John Constantine![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; A little problem begins kicking up a sandstorm at home.
Log;
Saturday morning. Close to afternoon.
Too much of that memory theatrics had led the nightmare to sleep in later than usual (or was it something else). Even upon awakening he'd gone straight to the bathroom for a piss and a shower, to keep his mind off of other issues. Cori had had a dreamless sleep. On top of that his 'ability' had yet to return.
He brooded over this while scrubbing into his white hair. It couldn't have been coincidence and neither was that exorcist the cause of the problem. The nightmare's lord had left, the morningstar had come and gone, something was not right.
".... Shit," Cori shouted as the soap slipped from his hands and his arm scrapped the lower faucet.
----
For once Constantine had not trailed into the shower with the nightmare to, as he usually placed it, "conserve water." He had been meditating on things, brooding himself almost. Something was off in the City and it had bothered him deeply. He'd be fucking daft to ignore the omens, the arrivals and departures, and a little tiny something told the magus that there wasn't a parade at the end. Cori's behavior, his avoidance, was the friggin' icing.
Calm before the storm. Cigarette smoke always lazily weaving about from the end, Constantine reminded himself that he had almost died, and came back to this. Reason enough that he was still alive; fate, or whatever the fuck was wanking off over him from above, was not through with his misfortunes just yet.
A shout.
John perked up. No doubt that was Cori. Maybe the nightmare had nicked himself on something, slipped? No thump. A spot of curiosity and suspicion had moved the magus from his chair and ashtray and stout.
"Cori?" He was in the doorway.
----
"I'm fine," the Corinthian called back, almost immediately. Shit that wasn't blood going down the drain... He shut the water off and reached out to grab a towel, covering his left arm with it.
----
John watched his companion dubiously as he scrambled behind the curtain, reaching for a towel. He did not say a word, only watched.
----
Cori noticed John, still standing in the bathroom and watching him with those piercing blue eyes. He couldn't meet the magician's gaze. His other dilemma was efficiently using that towel to appear casual while not revealing his arm. Fuck, he was screwed, and not in that pleasant way.
"........" Rather than try to evade John in a half-assed manner Cori pulled the towel from his arm, revealing the long narrow mark leading to the back of his wrist. His flesh appeared less pink, more grainy.
----
The sharp gaze softened into one of surprised horror, a rare expression for the hardened mage (Better that the both of them knew to not hide shit). He approached it as if it were a car wreck, unsure if he wanted to confirm if that was what he thought it was. His enhanced sense of smell was picking up the vibrancy of flesh and the dry grit of sand grains. A hand hovered over the wound, the magus a looming shape over that arm.
"Cori? What happened?"
----
"I hit the faucet," he said to the Englishman, avoiding his gaze a moment. The wound was shallow, barely scratching the surface, but when it should have been bleeding it was flaking grains of sand. "It's...."
The opposite of nothing, Cori's brow furrowed. "Just wrap it up, it'll be fine."
----
Constantine would have punched the nightmare if it had not carried the risk of literally flaking that perfect work of flesh and chisel off. Best to not stomp the friggin' sand castle to preserve the damn thing when the tide was already here.
"The canary is in the mine, Cori, and it's fucking choking."
----
"I'm not dying," he gave the blonde a sharp reply. "It's a big fucking problem, but I'm not dying," Cori insisted with a shake of his head. He traced his fingertip down the track of the wound, feeling the packed grains beneath. "No one's taking me out yet," the nightmare repeated, "don't look at me like that."
----
John sighed, hesitant to touch that arm. There was something disturbingly delicate about Cori now; he felt it. "You know something I don't." His lip curled. "Why the fuck can't you tell me before I find out meself?"
----
"I don't know something you don't," Cori fired back, "I'm just as fucking clueless about this as you are."
He gestured to the wound again, teeth eyes narrowed. The Corinthian was angry, angry with John for his accusation--no, angry because he didn't know and that was the most frightening part. His eye mouths turned down in frustrated frowns. He averted his gaze once more.
"I'm not going anywhere, John, I wouldn't."
----
John did not back down, the dominant, demanding animal he was. "You heard your dear ol' pop. What was he on about?"
The encounter. Constantine. His sharper lupine eyes could pick out the glimmer of smaller sets of teeth from the tangle of shadows. Those shades had come off, hadn't they?
"Cori, you tried to nightmare him, didn't you? The other me bloke. Where are your shades?"
----
"I have no idea, he up and left," Cori said while wiping the towel along his damp limbs, "shut out if you ask me."
The nightmare spoke honestly despite his frustrated tone. He didn't know why the Lord had left, nor why the Morningstar and Constantine's arrivals had followed so quickly. It didn't seem like a coincidence, it smelled like decay. Cori finally stepped out of the tub, towel draped around his waist.
"I did, twice," the white blonde admitted, "that night he tried to fuck around and during sleep. Nothing happened."
----
John had narrowed his eyes. With a vicious speed that normally would have ended in a sharp metallic clip of fangs, the magus had seized the nightmare's shoulders, eyes on teeth.
"Cori. Nightmare me."
----
The clasp to his shoulders surprised the Corinthian briefly. He even gave the blonde a look of disapproval for the gesture but he didn't push back and neither did he ignore John's request. Teeth eyes sneered viciously as his tongues licked across those glossy whites.
It was a front, for all he tried no visions boiled to the surface. He probably couldn't instill a sense of fear in Constantine beyond the appearance of his teeth, and John was already used to that.
----
"Are you even trying?" growled the magus, letting his guard down, exposing his psyche's tender pale underbelly for those teeth to rend into basic fear. None of that came. Nothing gnawed. "Come on, Cori." His voice was stern, flat. Demanding.
----
"I am, do you think I'm fucking with you," Cori growled back, "do you think I'm laughing on the inside!?"
Nothing came, absolutely nothing.
----
The fingers briefly squeezed into the nightmare's shoulders, his palms hot against the water warmed flesh (was it even flesh anymore?). Constantine then released, his rough fingers sliding down, then away.
"The fuck is wrong with you," he mumbled, premonitions and visions swimming through his memory. Seeing Cori this way bothered him down through the many layers of persona to his very core."
----
"I don't fucking know..." he huffed, "but I'm going to find out, and if that son of a bitch exorcist is to blame I'll slit his fucking throat."
The Corinthian's threat didn't sound ferocious as it could have. He didn't like the unknown, feared it if he were to admit that. At the very least his shoulders didn't flake away with John's touch. He reached down to take the other's hand in his own.
----
John reply was limited to an uncomfortable grunt. The intensity of his stare had lessened, softened, but he was far from mellow. Concerned.
"Glue," he concluded, studying his paler hand.
----
"Glue," Cori asked curiously. Wasn't there some kind of old wives tale about sealing cuts with clear nail polish, was this something similar? Regardless he trusted John, enough to have him heal the glass in his palms, and successfully so. He offered his arm to the magus.
----
"I fixed your palms, haven't I?" Constantine gave that arm a thoughtful look as he took it, the shock of the situation having subsided enough for him to think. "Patching holes wasn't that hard. Keeping it together shouldn't be either."
----
"Do what you can," Cori nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand and huffed softly again. Shit the nightmare could use a cigarette. The very thought of it made him wonder if his flesh was even more sensitive to fire now.
"It looks bad, but it takes more than a fucking scratch to do me in," he said to John, a small reassurance in the face of what appeared to be a big problem.
----
"Said Achilles, never mind the heel," Constantine added, looking up at the toothy face from that heavy brow. He was not going to brush all this off, not by any means. If the Corinthian could last for a good couple thousand years, he was sure he was good for another few, John would see to that. "I'd do whatever it takes." He brought the intact hand up, slowly taking a finger to his lips to gently suck. They were dry and brushed the tip as he spoke. His breath was warm. "I'm not giving up on you."
----
"But he's overrated," said the Corinthian who admittedly was not as old as Achilles. He wanted this to be something minor, something they could solve within days so that John wouldn't have to look at him like that. Cori couldn't stand to see those thick blonde brows furrow in futility. He liked John to be happy (and cocky, a bit of a cunt, a wiseass, everything in between).
His fingertips were still whole, the skin tasting like the nightmare's skin, the fingernail still strong. "And I'm not leaving you alone," he replied, his other hand reaching up to brush through that unruly blonde hair.
----
Something minor. Something was going on in the City, too many things going on together. The sensation of something with larger teeth than his own in the dark. He could only fucking wish it was minor. Normalcy was a rare commodity in this bloody place.
The taste of his flesh, the same, was only a minor comfort instead.
"You better not," John mumbled into that finger, closing his eyes with his touch.
----
"I'm not that curious to learn if you could dig me up and chew me out if I did," the nightmare quipped with a genuine smile.
The confines of the Englishman's warm mouth, with its less than perfect teeth and taste of nicotine, was a comforting place. John Constantine was his safe place, regardless of his name, his line's curse, his reputation for bad luck and black magic. The Corinthian's shadow wasn't any better, perhaps that was what made things fit so well.
"I promise."
----
Constantine added a few fingers then, to provide sanctuary to all of them, to taste the whole of that white immaculate hand. A stark contrast to his black magic and dark demeanor anyway. The Corinthian was a creature of monochrome, black and white. John, his eyes bright and blue, hair still a vibrant yellow, was color.
They fit.
"Cross your heart and hope to die," he said.
----
"Now you're being morbid," the Corinthian joked while twisting his fingers within that mouth to pinch the tip of John's tongue. Death was a possibility the nightmare denied despite the loss of his special skill and the wound on his arm. "Yes," he answered anyway, then leaned forward to replace his moist fingertips between those lips with his tongue.
----
Very briefly, grunting while those fingers pinched, Constantine had pondered the possibility of a tongue ring. It was dismissed, a little something best found in the nightmare's maw. When their tongues entwined around each other as they were allowed to taste that which was on their own, the magus had decided that any sort of piercing play was best left on Cori's cock and nipple.
Distracting thoughts.
"Who do you think you're talking to then," he spoke into that other mouth. Flesh on flesh.
----
If only a tongue ring wouldn't wreak havoc on his other form... As for the Corinthian, yes metal was best kept to his ear, his nipple, and his otherwise unaltered cock. Fortunately he seemed to not have similar thoughts, the towel around his waist remained flat for the most part.
"John..." the nightmare said his first name with a lick, "Constantine." Pronounced properly.
----
A new record but considering circumstances, Constantine was in the mood for anything but a fuck. Did the nightmare still bleed? Heat still pulsed from that other body, although not so much as the magus'; one did it out of habit, the other had to.
"How hard is that," he quietly mumbled. "Like the tine of a fork..."
----
"Not at all...." And while the Corinthian entertained the idea of hardening things he too found their intimacy far more alluring. His body was warm and there was blood in it, but the blood was slowly beginning to thin, changes under the surface that they couldn't see.
Cori claimed one more taste of John's mouth before pulling back. "Hungry?" He wanted something to maintain a semblance of normalcy, mundane or not.
----
A shag for later, if at all. Constantine could not quite sense it but his wolf shape could: the canine nose could detect the minute changes fluttering and shifting about in Cori's blood. It would only be a matter of time until the difference could be experienced in full, that intricate molecular dance within the nightmare's fluids.
Their eyes and teeth met.
"Hungry," confirmed the magus. He would watch him carefully. After all, he always had been more partial to salt.
Rating; PG-13 (language)
Characters; John Constantine
silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmareSummary; A little problem begins kicking up a sandstorm at home.
Log;
Saturday morning. Close to afternoon.
Too much of that memory theatrics had led the nightmare to sleep in later than usual (or was it something else). Even upon awakening he'd gone straight to the bathroom for a piss and a shower, to keep his mind off of other issues. Cori had had a dreamless sleep. On top of that his 'ability' had yet to return.
He brooded over this while scrubbing into his white hair. It couldn't have been coincidence and neither was that exorcist the cause of the problem. The nightmare's lord had left, the morningstar had come and gone, something was not right.
".... Shit," Cori shouted as the soap slipped from his hands and his arm scrapped the lower faucet.
----
For once Constantine had not trailed into the shower with the nightmare to, as he usually placed it, "conserve water." He had been meditating on things, brooding himself almost. Something was off in the City and it had bothered him deeply. He'd be fucking daft to ignore the omens, the arrivals and departures, and a little tiny something told the magus that there wasn't a parade at the end. Cori's behavior, his avoidance, was the friggin' icing.
Calm before the storm. Cigarette smoke always lazily weaving about from the end, Constantine reminded himself that he had almost died, and came back to this. Reason enough that he was still alive; fate, or whatever the fuck was wanking off over him from above, was not through with his misfortunes just yet.
A shout.
John perked up. No doubt that was Cori. Maybe the nightmare had nicked himself on something, slipped? No thump. A spot of curiosity and suspicion had moved the magus from his chair and ashtray and stout.
"Cori?" He was in the doorway.
----
"I'm fine," the Corinthian called back, almost immediately. Shit that wasn't blood going down the drain... He shut the water off and reached out to grab a towel, covering his left arm with it.
----
John watched his companion dubiously as he scrambled behind the curtain, reaching for a towel. He did not say a word, only watched.
----
Cori noticed John, still standing in the bathroom and watching him with those piercing blue eyes. He couldn't meet the magician's gaze. His other dilemma was efficiently using that towel to appear casual while not revealing his arm. Fuck, he was screwed, and not in that pleasant way.
"........" Rather than try to evade John in a half-assed manner Cori pulled the towel from his arm, revealing the long narrow mark leading to the back of his wrist. His flesh appeared less pink, more grainy.
----
The sharp gaze softened into one of surprised horror, a rare expression for the hardened mage (Better that the both of them knew to not hide shit). He approached it as if it were a car wreck, unsure if he wanted to confirm if that was what he thought it was. His enhanced sense of smell was picking up the vibrancy of flesh and the dry grit of sand grains. A hand hovered over the wound, the magus a looming shape over that arm.
"Cori? What happened?"
----
"I hit the faucet," he said to the Englishman, avoiding his gaze a moment. The wound was shallow, barely scratching the surface, but when it should have been bleeding it was flaking grains of sand. "It's...."
The opposite of nothing, Cori's brow furrowed. "Just wrap it up, it'll be fine."
----
Constantine would have punched the nightmare if it had not carried the risk of literally flaking that perfect work of flesh and chisel off. Best to not stomp the friggin' sand castle to preserve the damn thing when the tide was already here.
"The canary is in the mine, Cori, and it's fucking choking."
----
"I'm not dying," he gave the blonde a sharp reply. "It's a big fucking problem, but I'm not dying," Cori insisted with a shake of his head. He traced his fingertip down the track of the wound, feeling the packed grains beneath. "No one's taking me out yet," the nightmare repeated, "don't look at me like that."
----
John sighed, hesitant to touch that arm. There was something disturbingly delicate about Cori now; he felt it. "You know something I don't." His lip curled. "Why the fuck can't you tell me before I find out meself?"
----
"I don't know something you don't," Cori fired back, "I'm just as fucking clueless about this as you are."
He gestured to the wound again, teeth eyes narrowed. The Corinthian was angry, angry with John for his accusation--no, angry because he didn't know and that was the most frightening part. His eye mouths turned down in frustrated frowns. He averted his gaze once more.
"I'm not going anywhere, John, I wouldn't."
----
John did not back down, the dominant, demanding animal he was. "You heard your dear ol' pop. What was he on about?"
The encounter. Constantine. His sharper lupine eyes could pick out the glimmer of smaller sets of teeth from the tangle of shadows. Those shades had come off, hadn't they?
"Cori, you tried to nightmare him, didn't you? The other me bloke. Where are your shades?"
----
"I have no idea, he up and left," Cori said while wiping the towel along his damp limbs, "shut out if you ask me."
The nightmare spoke honestly despite his frustrated tone. He didn't know why the Lord had left, nor why the Morningstar and Constantine's arrivals had followed so quickly. It didn't seem like a coincidence, it smelled like decay. Cori finally stepped out of the tub, towel draped around his waist.
"I did, twice," the white blonde admitted, "that night he tried to fuck around and during sleep. Nothing happened."
----
John had narrowed his eyes. With a vicious speed that normally would have ended in a sharp metallic clip of fangs, the magus had seized the nightmare's shoulders, eyes on teeth.
"Cori. Nightmare me."
----
The clasp to his shoulders surprised the Corinthian briefly. He even gave the blonde a look of disapproval for the gesture but he didn't push back and neither did he ignore John's request. Teeth eyes sneered viciously as his tongues licked across those glossy whites.
It was a front, for all he tried no visions boiled to the surface. He probably couldn't instill a sense of fear in Constantine beyond the appearance of his teeth, and John was already used to that.
----
"Are you even trying?" growled the magus, letting his guard down, exposing his psyche's tender pale underbelly for those teeth to rend into basic fear. None of that came. Nothing gnawed. "Come on, Cori." His voice was stern, flat. Demanding.
----
"I am, do you think I'm fucking with you," Cori growled back, "do you think I'm laughing on the inside!?"
Nothing came, absolutely nothing.
----
The fingers briefly squeezed into the nightmare's shoulders, his palms hot against the water warmed flesh (was it even flesh anymore?). Constantine then released, his rough fingers sliding down, then away.
"The fuck is wrong with you," he mumbled, premonitions and visions swimming through his memory. Seeing Cori this way bothered him down through the many layers of persona to his very core."
----
"I don't fucking know..." he huffed, "but I'm going to find out, and if that son of a bitch exorcist is to blame I'll slit his fucking throat."
The Corinthian's threat didn't sound ferocious as it could have. He didn't like the unknown, feared it if he were to admit that. At the very least his shoulders didn't flake away with John's touch. He reached down to take the other's hand in his own.
----
John reply was limited to an uncomfortable grunt. The intensity of his stare had lessened, softened, but he was far from mellow. Concerned.
"Glue," he concluded, studying his paler hand.
----
"Glue," Cori asked curiously. Wasn't there some kind of old wives tale about sealing cuts with clear nail polish, was this something similar? Regardless he trusted John, enough to have him heal the glass in his palms, and successfully so. He offered his arm to the magus.
----
"I fixed your palms, haven't I?" Constantine gave that arm a thoughtful look as he took it, the shock of the situation having subsided enough for him to think. "Patching holes wasn't that hard. Keeping it together shouldn't be either."
----
"Do what you can," Cori nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand and huffed softly again. Shit the nightmare could use a cigarette. The very thought of it made him wonder if his flesh was even more sensitive to fire now.
"It looks bad, but it takes more than a fucking scratch to do me in," he said to John, a small reassurance in the face of what appeared to be a big problem.
----
"Said Achilles, never mind the heel," Constantine added, looking up at the toothy face from that heavy brow. He was not going to brush all this off, not by any means. If the Corinthian could last for a good couple thousand years, he was sure he was good for another few, John would see to that. "I'd do whatever it takes." He brought the intact hand up, slowly taking a finger to his lips to gently suck. They were dry and brushed the tip as he spoke. His breath was warm. "I'm not giving up on you."
----
"But he's overrated," said the Corinthian who admittedly was not as old as Achilles. He wanted this to be something minor, something they could solve within days so that John wouldn't have to look at him like that. Cori couldn't stand to see those thick blonde brows furrow in futility. He liked John to be happy (and cocky, a bit of a cunt, a wiseass, everything in between).
His fingertips were still whole, the skin tasting like the nightmare's skin, the fingernail still strong. "And I'm not leaving you alone," he replied, his other hand reaching up to brush through that unruly blonde hair.
----
Something minor. Something was going on in the City, too many things going on together. The sensation of something with larger teeth than his own in the dark. He could only fucking wish it was minor. Normalcy was a rare commodity in this bloody place.
The taste of his flesh, the same, was only a minor comfort instead.
"You better not," John mumbled into that finger, closing his eyes with his touch.
----
"I'm not that curious to learn if you could dig me up and chew me out if I did," the nightmare quipped with a genuine smile.
The confines of the Englishman's warm mouth, with its less than perfect teeth and taste of nicotine, was a comforting place. John Constantine was his safe place, regardless of his name, his line's curse, his reputation for bad luck and black magic. The Corinthian's shadow wasn't any better, perhaps that was what made things fit so well.
"I promise."
----
Constantine added a few fingers then, to provide sanctuary to all of them, to taste the whole of that white immaculate hand. A stark contrast to his black magic and dark demeanor anyway. The Corinthian was a creature of monochrome, black and white. John, his eyes bright and blue, hair still a vibrant yellow, was color.
They fit.
"Cross your heart and hope to die," he said.
----
"Now you're being morbid," the Corinthian joked while twisting his fingers within that mouth to pinch the tip of John's tongue. Death was a possibility the nightmare denied despite the loss of his special skill and the wound on his arm. "Yes," he answered anyway, then leaned forward to replace his moist fingertips between those lips with his tongue.
----
Very briefly, grunting while those fingers pinched, Constantine had pondered the possibility of a tongue ring. It was dismissed, a little something best found in the nightmare's maw. When their tongues entwined around each other as they were allowed to taste that which was on their own, the magus had decided that any sort of piercing play was best left on Cori's cock and nipple.
Distracting thoughts.
"Who do you think you're talking to then," he spoke into that other mouth. Flesh on flesh.
----
If only a tongue ring wouldn't wreak havoc on his other form... As for the Corinthian, yes metal was best kept to his ear, his nipple, and his otherwise unaltered cock. Fortunately he seemed to not have similar thoughts, the towel around his waist remained flat for the most part.
"John..." the nightmare said his first name with a lick, "Constantine." Pronounced properly.
----
A new record but considering circumstances, Constantine was in the mood for anything but a fuck. Did the nightmare still bleed? Heat still pulsed from that other body, although not so much as the magus'; one did it out of habit, the other had to.
"How hard is that," he quietly mumbled. "Like the tine of a fork..."
----
"Not at all...." And while the Corinthian entertained the idea of hardening things he too found their intimacy far more alluring. His body was warm and there was blood in it, but the blood was slowly beginning to thin, changes under the surface that they couldn't see.
Cori claimed one more taste of John's mouth before pulling back. "Hungry?" He wanted something to maintain a semblance of normalcy, mundane or not.
----
A shag for later, if at all. Constantine could not quite sense it but his wolf shape could: the canine nose could detect the minute changes fluttering and shifting about in Cori's blood. It would only be a matter of time until the difference could be experienced in full, that intricate molecular dance within the nightmare's fluids.
Their eyes and teeth met.
"Hungry," confirmed the magus. He would watch him carefully. After all, he always had been more partial to salt.