tampered | Log; Complete [Part 2]

When; Apr. 18 (evening)
Rating; MA (meals, knives, and that whole sex thing)
Characters; John Constantine

silkcutremix, the Corinthian

bitingnightmare
Summary; The nightmare’s problem seems to be getting worse, prompting the magician to probe the matter a little deeper.
Log;

Fragile was a matter of perspective. The nightmare still believed he was strong, even with the loss of his special skills and his immortality. He still had his hands and his wits at his disposal, something John Constantine could relate to for what was magic without the proper brains to wield it? He turned his fingers into a tight grip on that shirt collar, Cori still had his strength.

"You can always fuck me," replied the Corinthian with a lick to the other's lips.

----

But this begged the question: Was he still capable of an erection? John was quite horny and considering the dire situation, it might not be long before any sort of intercourse would threaten the nightmare's shape. Like fucking a sandcastle, really.

(No, he shouldn't think of it that way. He shouldn't be thinking of shit like that at all.)

"Counter or floor."

----

Cori couldn't deny that the knife shared between their hands and John's rough kiss didn't arouse him (in what some might even call a morbid fashion). The severity of the situation however made him want to fuck even more, before he might not be able to at all. He was already working on removing the Englishman's shirt.

"Counter," he answered urgently.

----

"Counter," John confirmed, throwing the knife aside. It skidded along the hard floor, bouncing off the table's main "leg" with a clatter. Steel against aluminum. His hands reached up the nightmare shirt, along his sides, to his belly, up to his chest.

----

Who cared where it went as long as it didn't bounce back or put a scratch in the linoleum. Even the kitchen's cleanliness wasn't on his mind right now as he tossed John's shirt aside so his fingers could brush against the hairs along his chest.

"Careful," he reminded the blonde as hands rubbed close to his nipple ring. Cori didn't want to take a chance on that one. But at the very least his erection began to swell under his jeans.

----

No nipple play, John reminded himself, those rough old hands sinking back to the sides. Good thing the nightmare was functioning down below; John was already but oh, one couldn't be too sure.

"Let's check." He worked by feel, opening his jeans, nudging that nuisance pair of underpants downwards, over and off. Meanwhile he buried his face in the Corinthian's shoulder, breathing in the distinct scent of his perfect skin, a contrast to his weathered own. The cross burn still remained on John's shoulder, appearing as fresh as ever.

----

The nightmare kept his own shirt on, as if that might discourage them from engaging in the tit torture Cori loved so much. A shame that was... but they had other ways of relieving the stress of the situation, their dire circumstances. He shook the denim and cotton pants from his ankles while holding John to his chest with one arm, inhaling the scent of his blonde hair, fingertips palming the scar on his bare shoulder. His other hand reached down to undo John's zip, a signature sound.

"How does it look," asked the Corinthian, sort of a moot point as his hand made to cup the magus' balls.

----

John adjusted himself to look downwards, his hand around that other shaft, tips brushing along the foreskin. His trousers and skivvies remained although the first, being very loose, were making slow motions to join the denim on the floor.

"Looks good enough," Constantine grunted, feeling that member and testicles, a part his hand's exploration curiously serious. His own were as large as he had bragged about, of course. They were balls well earned.

----

One of the few men who bragged and had the goods to show for it. After giving those heavy balls a few squeezes he manipulated the waistband of John's skivvies down his hips. Almost.

Cori stopped when he felt those rough fingers on his shaft, briefly afraid that something could go wrong. However his erection remained firm, seemingly normal, not quite as thick as the magus' but still handsome especially because the Corinthian knew how to use it right. He continued to tug at John's pants.

----

John felt the nightmare's hesitation. He stopped, those pants tickling as they fell down, down. His voice low, "Cori, what is it?"

----

"A little scared," he answered in a husky whisper, but not enough to quell his sexual appetite. This would not get in the way of their more intimate expressions. The nightmare wouldn't let it. "Keep going," the Corinthian urged in reassurance.

----

John held that hard shaft but did not squeeze and fondle it as he would have, not yet. If the Corinthian was not bleeding, what was in that erection? Interesting mental images were making him soft. "Cori, are you sure?"

----

The nightmare didn't want to know, but he wanted this. He wanted to fuck John as if it were any other normal day in this hellhole and he wasn't losing his functionality and flesh. He pressed his hardened member against the man's palm in a slow thrust. "Yes I'm sure, please," Cori insisted, his lips brushing along the top of Constantine's shoulder, "give me good hard fuck baby."

----

"Don't make me take that knife to your dick to see what's in it." John's breathing stifled, voice husky with that basic carnal desire to yes, fuck the nightmare raw. Still, there was a tiny sensation of doubt holding him back. If the Corinthian could not even eat...

He brought his other hand to that mop of white-blonde hair, urging it downwards to his own. That was made of flesh and blood, he was very sure of it. It was not coming apart.

----

A little twist of morbid curiosity begged the Corinthian to challenge Constantine on that one. However he rather not learn what had become of his body. His flesh was supple but there was sand under it, he wasn't bleeding from his wounds but he had a god damned erection. What kind of irony was that? Fortunately there were other things the nightmare could still do.

The hand in his hair was implication enough, and Cori was more than willing to oblige. He knelt onto the cool floor, hard on his knees, but not quite like the shaft in his hand. He took teasing licks at the pierced head, wrapped his lips around it without taking John's entire length into his mouth yet.

----

That piercing. Funny how John had almost forgotten he had had it, much like the stud in his ear, and Cori had reminded him. His tongue was still moist, still pleasingly warm. Huffing and panting, fingers threaded through the nightmare's hair, none too keen on forcing him to suck according to his whims.

----

How unlike John to resist the usual dominant gesture. Cori considered it a caring sign of the Englishman's consideration for his health. John Constantine could be kind behind closed doors. For that he gripped the base of his cock and took the rest of it into his wet mouth till the piercing knocked the back of his throat. His other hand gave those balls a squeeze.

----

"Gnnn, Cori... Take it easy," John gasped. He was a very dominant fellow indeed, but he was not going to dominate at the Corinthian's expense, not if he was dying. His fingers closed, tightening into a fist, tugging at more than a few of those white-blonde roots.

----

Maybe John wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Cori shaking his head and Cori teasing his dick. Maybe he was dying, but he wouldn't dare let whatever was killing him take him out without a good bang. A few white strands came away with John's fingers, but not tufts that left patches, not yet. He pulled his lips off him briefly, to suckle at his own fingers.

"You get the whole treatment..." he urged, eager to pleasure and be pleasured in return. Cori covered his shaft again, sucking as his wet fingers teased that hole behind John's balls.

----

Both hands had grasped at that head of hair while the nightmare had at Constantine's other head, his body hot with sex, sweat beading along his skin. He wanted to thrust so badly, thrust into the nightmare's mouth and feel those teeth graze against his shaft. "Don't be daft," he tried again, although half-heartedly.

----

Without much room to respond he continued to suck him off, expertly, as if the very act alone reasserted his identity despite his declining health, reasserted his deep connection to the magician. John was tensing up, Cori could feel those muscles at the tip of his finger while carefully inserting it nearly to his third knuckle, then back and forth slowly.

----

John could not argue with this, the warm pleasure throbbing through him helping the magus reconsider the nightmare's health. His ringpiece tightened around that finger and its quick drying saliva mixed in with a few grains. Still tight.

"Good boy," he managed.

----

Reconsider it for his own sake. Cori wanted to relish in the fact that he could still enjoy his body even if it was in a state of decay. John certainly seemed to be enjoying it a lot. His tongue took a long stroke from base to tip before his teeth took hold of that piercing in an effort to make the Englishman feel more relaxed so he could insert a second finger.

His own erection bobbed between his thighs, still hard but not quite as flush as it would be in normal times.

----

"Cori," John groaned as those teeth seized Albert, trusting a little more in the nightmare's abilities (but that might as well have been his passion talking for him), "your spit. S'not quite spit..." He could not longer smell the vomit in the sink's drain.

----

He pumped his two fingers, curved to stimulate that prostate. A tug never hurt anyone, but he took great care in releasing Albert. Cori's tongue rolled under his cockhead then up that center groove, speaking to him without words. He still savored Constantine, the salt of his very real flesh, at least his taste buds were working.

Spit huh? The nightmare's lips sounded another suckle as he pulled away from John's dick. His fingers slipped out of his tight ass too, knuckles and bones intact on the surface. Cori dragged his tongue along the magus' happy trail, up to his left nipple where he gave it a brief bite before turning his back to the blonde. He bent over at the counter, shoulders flat against its edge.

"You better use the lube then," he insisted, voice low and urgent.

----

Ahhh, fuck! He should have come then and there but no, just a little more...

A shame it had to pause, but alas, only a pause it was. Constantine had something else in mind and it did not require lube (his ringpiece called for those fingers back).

"Got something better," he grunted, a hand reaching down to jerk himself off a bit. Ceasing had made him yearn so bad already that it hurt. "Lie down." He smirked. "On your back. Or I'll make you."

----

Fuck was right. Who did John Constantine think he was, trying to get away with an orgasm before the Corinthian could even get a little handiwork like that? He smirked to himself, hearing the want in his tone. The nightmare couldn't always play Pavlov's dog to the sound of separating zipper teeth.

"Watch the knife," he cautioned John before obliging.

Cori knelt to the floor then turned on his back to lie flat. His legs bent at the knees, thighs parting while his shaft bobbed, very erect. He beckoned the Englishman with those same two fingers, eager to fit inside him again.

----

Cori would soon have them inside again enough. John was stepping out of his trousers, his eyes on that erect cock that begged attention despite circumstances. He remembered a time when all this was experimentation. Now he was lusting for it with an eager anticipation as if it were a hot, wet cunt.

Constantine straddled the nightmare, bollocks and all dangling in his face, arsehole up. Their sizes about the same, the magus had no problem accessing the nightmare's set while allowing the same vice versa. Those thick fingers grabbed at the white thighs, tongue testing that foreskin.

----

Experimentation or a rediscovery of his experimental youth? For Cori it was all quite natural, aside from the fact that he was fucking John Constantine. And as time had proven, the infamous magus was very good at it.

His back arched when he felt the other's tongue on his previously neglected hard on. The nightmare raised his hips, aching to get it inside John's warm mouth while his own tongue plied the man's ringpiece. The blonde always was a bit of a tight ass, had to make sure his hole was ready and willing. His tongue stroked downward to his heavy balls while a feather light one from his eye teased that pucker.

----

John had hoped so. Would Cori fuck someone that could not give him what he had so desired? Again. at least. Like right now, the magus already preparing himself to deep throat the nightmare's begging cock practically being forced into his mouth, pale skin certainly made of flesh and not sand. His own tongue had yet to reduce that foreskin to mud, thank fucking Christ.

"Cor-rngh!"

Fuck, that felt so fucking good... He had to keep himself from squeezing and testing the Corinthian's questionable pale skin. One arm supported him while a hand took the shaft to position it. His breath was hot against the head, warm and moist once his own lips were around it (bloody piercing).

----

For all of the magician's posturing he certainly knew how to treat a cock as well as he could a cunt. Cori kept his thrusts slow but full, eager to fuck the man's mouth but taking care not to trigger a reflex, especially when the ends of his piercing could tickle.

On this end however, the nightmare didn't hold back. His tongue dipped shallowly into John's ass, rewetting the rim as his other one lapped at his balls. Liked that didn't he? He hissed a warm breath over his skin, hands clutching the Englishman's rear tightly for the lips on his own cock. Those fingers eventually replaced his tongue.

"All the way in," Cori groaned before tipping his head back to take as much of John as he could into his mouth and throat.

----

At least that puff of air offered by the nightmare was still warm. The cock in his mouth, caressed by cautious teeth, was as well, or warm enough that the magus did not feel like he was shagging a corpse. In, out, in, out. Self-control was becoming more and more difficult, Cori stimulating fucking all he could back there. Cockhead soon tickled his gag reflex, buggering hell.

(They made bloody Rabbits for these things but thought of using one had tickled him; he did not need it with someone as skilled as the Corinthian.)

Fingers stroked that along penis shaft that was not in the magus' mouth, there to the balls. He gave the balls a needed palming. Another test.

----

A certified quality fucking machine, that described the Corinthian. His fingers knew where to touch, hooking again to press that small gland in John's ass that a vibrator couldn't (not a conventional one anyway). The thought would have tickled Cori as well however, being quite the insertable enthusiast himself. For next time.

"Ungh," grunted the pale blonde around the Englishman's shaft. He enjoyed the touch to his balls, it felt natural, although a little harder might make them more sensitive. In return his eye tongues stroked every inch of John's sack as his own hips quickened the pace.

----

Those balls were not going to crumble anytime soon. Constantine was able to go just a bit harder, fingers encircling and squeezing them, enjoying how they felt as they were deftly manipulated. The Corinthian stimulating that had spurred him to repay the quality fucking machine as much as he would allow himself to, pushing his capacity for being "gentle", going again to deep throat.

"Coming," he gasped over his mouthful, bracing his back as his balls tightened.

----

He used his fingers to coax those balls to release, in and out as if they were his cock (not quite thick enough but ten times more dexterous), then settled within John so those tips could hook and push against his prostate. Cori always had the old man's health in mind.

He caught a glimpse of his arm, the bandaged one, then and the vertical cut down his other wrist as the hem of his sleeve fell back. No blood, not even from this exertion.

"Ahh..." the nightmare gasped, aching to taste the Englishman down his throat. He always was one for swallowing. And never mind being gentle, with disregard for his own safety the Corinthian was practically pounding John's mouth as if it were his ass, close to climax himself. The precum ran down his shaft, fluid a little thinner than usual.

----

The Corinthian was determined to have the magus choke on him, no doubt. John was moving with him, easily keeping up with him, his body was warmed over with the impending orgasm, making him go faster, faster, harder.

No, John had something else in mind. He kept himself back enough so that the nightmare, pleasure himself as he might have, would not orgasm before he did. They would not be orgasming at the same time, oh no.

Teasing, Constantine gave an all too familiar male grunt of release as he emptied his hot load into the nightmare's waiting mouth, his elbows and knees supporting himself on the floor, hands around those paler thighs.

----

Hot down the back of his tongue, the familiar taste belonged to Constantine alone. He swallowed it (would that come back up later), slow enough to savor, careful enough not to choke. Cori worked his thumb along the sack, his fingers still buried in John to make sure he spilled every available drop.

As for himself, he desperately wanted his own release. Damn the old bastard, his clutch and weight were keeping the Corinthian from fucking his face at full speed. He would have asked for it, begged for it, if John's dick wasn't also substituting for a gag.

----

Oh, did John spill. He spilled all he could before taking the nightmare and twisting that body, cuing the change of position to not turn him in two. Now it was Constantine flat on the floor and the nightmare on top. The magus concentrated a bit after, giving a little bony addition to his member to help keep it erect, to give the nightmare a little something while he and his mouth worked his magic. No eyeteeth, but John had all he needed.

----

His fingers slipped out just in time.

The rollover took Cori by surprise, enough to completely take his guard down where John's erection was concerned. He barely noticed it wasn't going soft yet and only came to that conclusion when he realized, for all intents and purposes, that cock was keeping his mouth shut.

"Johh..." The nightmare tried to form his name around his shaft, breath warm as a bit of semen smeared his lower lip. He thrust his hips into the old man's face, supported on his elbows and John's darker thighs. Coming, he thought, body tight, but nothing beyond his precum leaked out.

----

John had been fucking Cori long enough to know the signals. He could feel everything, every little thing that had told him that Cori was emptying himself. Or was supposed to be. The pierced cock was fucking with his gag reflex as the magus was fighting to coax it out. Just a little more.

----

That worried the nightmare. He knew his body, John knew his body, they both had to know something wasn't right. Cori managed to pull his mouth off that boned erection to gasp. A sound of his release as his cheek brushed along the magus' wet head. His pace slowed, no longer banging into his gag reflex.

It barely released at all, a small amount that tasted more like the remnants of a week old orgasm before his cock started to go flaccid.

----

Constantine was gagging on some kind of shitawful semen instead of dick this time, the taste bad enough that he had twisted away those hips to the hard floor and all attached to it, his expression a bitter, sour one. To get up or to endure that horrendous flavor?

"Did your balls spoil?" John mumbled automatically in a low voice, trying to keep it down.

----

He grunted, hip hitting the hard floor. He wasn't aware of the awful taste but even the Corinthian could tell something about that orgasm wasn't pleasant. It was embarrassing. He managed to sit up and look at the Englishman, a mix of disgust and shame on his face. Way fucking embarrassing.

"Spit it out," Cori urged.

----

"Too late," John muttered, getting up to suck at the faucet despite the lingering odor of vomit in the drain, despite his now embarrassing erect cock.

----

A better way to describe it was dead embarrassing. Cori kept his seat on the floor, teeth eyes narrowed with a hand to his forehead. Stupid idea, consumed by a hunger for sex. He spotted the knife not too far away, but he left it alone.

"Sorry," he muttered to John.

----

John had been suckling and spitting, swallowing little to get that awful shit that lingered down and away as fast as possible. He did not answer, not sure of what but angry at something. His cock went flaccid, normal.

----

Without a response from the Englishman Cori grabbed his pants and jeans instead, covering up that offending cock and balls for whatever they'd spat down John's throat.

----

His mouth sufficiently cleaned to somewhere tolerable, and fuck that was a bad load considering the extent of shit the magus had tasted in his long turbulent life, he stood up to his full height, watching Cori with a very weighty sadness in his eyes.

----

After pulling his jeans on, zipped but unbuttoned, he picked the knife up and rinsed it carefully under the running water before placing it in the block. The Corinthian was very aware of the other man's gaze, still too embarrassed to look him in the blue eye, but he had little blood to even appear red-faced.

----

The magus watched the knife slide into the block instead of flesh. That disappointed look did not leave.

"Look at me," he said firmly.

----

He made sure to pull the hem of his sleeve back down to cover his marred arms. Cori remained silent, his gaze on anything but John, however his own frustrated and disappointed toothy look shifted to the blonde.

----

"Not your fault."

That was all the magus said, trudging to the couch. He made no motion for the Corinthian to follow; that was purely up to him to decide if the magus had invited him to his side or not.

----

The white blonde's fault if he'd done something wrong to start decaying, but with the current conditions of the City the Corinthian didn't know anymore.

He watched John walk away and after a thought grabbed one of the open beer bottles on the table. Cori followed him to the couch, stood in front of him and offered the Guinny as a gesture of peace, or maybe just to help him wash down the sour taste.

----

The City's fault. Everyone blamed the fucking City. It was in fashion to, but Constantine was not ready to join the crowd, even if all evidence currently was pointing to it.

Or maybe it really was the Corinthian's fault. Had he done something to himself during his "death?" Could John hypnotize the nightmare into answering a few questions?

His fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle and he took a swig, feeling the stout glide over his tongue down his throat. A better flavor than what the nightmare had delivered.

"Be with me," he grunted after he gulped.

----

A better taste and creamier too. The nightmare joined the magician on the couch, not just because John asked him to but also because Cori wanted to. He settled beside the other blonde, then shifted to rest his head against a bare thigh.

"Thanks," said the Corinthian.

----

Bugger his trousers. Constantine gave a wayward glance in the Corinthian's direction, gazing down at that white blonde head of hair against his skin. Bottle in one hand on the arm of the couch, his other rested along the nightmare to cradle his head, run his fingers along the perfect jaw.

----

They kept the blinds turned halfway anyway. Pantsless, shirtless, sort of a common way to lounge around the apartment unless company was calling. It was comfortable too. He reached up to cover John's hand with his own, and keep it there.

----

"Cori," John softly said in that low, usual grumble, "don't leave me."

----

"I'm not going to leave you," he replied quietly, fingers curling around his. What the nightmare wouldn't acknowledge was his seemingly lack of choice in this matter, but he didn't want to leave, not at all.

----

"You're dying." John's voice was weaker.

----

"I won't die," his tone became stronger. He kissed John's fingers, "I can't."

----

John narrowed his eyes, although not necessarily at Cori; it was a look of determination. "I'll make sure of it."

----

"Promise," Cori nodded, not a question but a declaration.

----

That hand around his head pressed him into his thigh just a little firmer, an acknowledgement. "Promise."

Log; Complete [Part 2]

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