Log: Complete

[bitingnightmare.livejournal.com]

When; Jul. 16 (night)
Rating; MA (language, said language in motion)
Characters; John Constantine silkcutremix, the Corinthian bitingnightmare
Summary; A few bits of melodramatically missed metal come back home.
Log;

How often was it that the nightmare returned during the late hours?  Long after the sun had set Cori came walking up those stairs, unsure if the Englishman was home as well.  It didn't matter much, whether he was there, out, or asleep, the surprise in tow was small enough to be a bump in his pocket.

A little incident the night before reminded the Corinthian something owed.

He turned the key to their apartment and opened the door, white hair poking through.

Surprisingly, John was not sleeping, up and quite conscious while Twonky the telly played something in Japanese. The contestants behind the glass were twisting about, trying to fit their bodies through the oncoming human-shaped gaps in time. A spindly man that might as well have been a contortionist was among the few not slammed into the pool behind them.

John looked up in the direction of that peeking hair. Cori had gone out, the magus had decided to shrug and let him for whatever business he had. Constantine had business himself. Give and take.

He took a sip of his beer, idly and very shamelessly scratching at his pair under his skivvies. "Hullo."

"Evening," greeted the Corinthian.

Perfect.

He swaggered into the apartment, tossing his keys and jacket onto the kitchen table, unless John had left part of his dinner there.  The nightmare's hand subtly fished the small box out of his pocket only to hide it behind his back.  Teeth eyes noticed the quality of entertainment on the tele.

The pool looked like it'd been filled with watered down Coor's Light.  "Did you eat anything," Cori asked as he approached the couch.

John gave his belly a look, the crowd roaring in Japanese as the all too familiar sound of "not clear" pinged in the background. "Last time you fed me," he replied. He did not feel like going out anywhere; just another day to lounge around the flat and admire that which was home, for the most part undisturbed.

Constantine had to raise an eyebrow, turning his full attention to Cori. "You have something," he observed.

His belly emptied since breakfast then, or was the first meal of the day at noon qualified for lunch?  Too late to stuff him now unless John didn't mind a snack, but after his surprise.  Cori noted the absolute panic on the contestants' faces when they had to face The Wall together.  Like watching an accident in slow motion.  He shook his head briefly then leaned over the couch arm.

"Guess."  The nightmare insisted, propping himself up on one hand while the box remained behind his back.  Out of reach he'd like to think.

Oh, they cleared the wall with an easy one, but not all three could jump at the same time in a row. One was keeled over over his presumably sore crotch as they crawled out of the piss-colored pool.

John made an attempt to reach. "It can't be din in that case. Can't smell it."

"Is it that entertaining," he asked John with a smirk, referring to the game show on the TV.

Nuh uh.  Cori leaned back, almost straightening up as he pulled the box out of reach.  "Keep guessing old man, you've barely started," he teased.  He tipped his shades downward to reveal to John his grinning eyes.

Tease. John was more forward. Twonky quietly considered something more appropriate for the both of them now that they were reunited.

"Don't know, mate," he tried to glance around, then saw the box itself. Hmm... "Would you do this shit or would we be shagging in the pool by now to bring their ratings up?

"The water doesn't look very clean," said the more cat-like of the two, not that Cori outright objected to trudging through dirty water.

John's unwillingness to play the guessing game made him smile.  He could have a little fun with this.  The box itself was smaller than palm-sized with a glossy black cover and rounded corners.  It looked like an average jewelry box.  The Corinthian presented it to the magus, around the couch to his other side.  On one knee.

"It's for you."

It was late, never mind the bollocks. John cocked his head, absolutely puzzled by this gesture of the nightmare's; they were struggling with this concept back in the States, weren't they? Not that the City would mind, but...

Slowly, he smiled, fingertips hovering over the case.

"You forgot the other bit."

"You'll want to take a look at it first, prenuptial agreements and all that," Cori replied in a feigned sigh.

With no lawyer to make the proper premarital arrangements, both were financially at risk, but did it really matter in a City that lacked a true economy?  It wasn't as if the nightmare had popped a specific question though.  For the most part he didn't have to.

"Well, open it," he grinned at the blonde, matching the mischievous expression on one of the bright yellow beads waiting to be unveiled.

They both had loved each other; they needn't constantly bathe each other in the phrase to know that. That aside, Constantine could not see himself getting married, not at his age.

But he'd remind himself of his creeping age (or being trapped in his declining prime?) later.

Constantine had taken the box, following the nightmare's suggestion to open it, give the contents a curious peek. A pause.

Then a grin.

"Christ, I knew I could count on you to remember..."

He stood up straight, standing tall in front of the Englishman.  Rather proud of himself, Cori was.  John could probably see it in his posture, the cocky tip of his hip, and the absolutely smug grin on his face.  Well the last one quickly faded for another mock sigh.

"I wanted this rubber duck end but none of them came with squeakers," his shoulders sank melodramatically, "those guys should be a fair substitute."  Cori upnodded to the box, a smirk returning.

The size was the same as the last; 12g of curved titanium but carrying much brighter ball ends than before.  One side boasted a cranky frown, the other a devious grin.

And here, pinched between those thick masculine fingers, was a smug little commentary on the life of John Constantine's penis.

The curved titanium was noticed first. The adornments were noticed second.

"Christ, mate." John gave it a look, intending to keep up his end of the bargain, but forgetting about the fact that the Corinthian was able to subject his most precious of organs to whatever tickled his nightmarish whims. No wonder. "You want to knock this against your throat?"

Dumb question: Cori did pick it out after all...

A commentary told through the eyes of a close friend and lover who knew that member of the Constantine family particularly well.

Those teeth rolled upward briefly; dumb question.  Who had made the careful decision to take this one home?  Who had considered the very character of John below the waist, pine ink and all?  Well, Cori hardly held it against the other, he'd just finished watching a mind numbing game show after all.

The nightmare turned to sink into the couch beside the magician.

"I think you need to put it on so I can give it a test drive," he smirked, eyes half lidding.

Well, there was a suggestion. Constantine had edged those skivvies off, to the floor, knowing exactly what this test drive had entailed. He held his cock and tugged some of the foreskin back, checking on the status of his hole out of habit (bloody ear incident as a boy had turned him off from piercings, really). Still there, and still making him piss in two bloody directions at once at that. The Corinthian settled next to him, John was not too sure about giving his cock head a face, a product of the nightmare's careful consideration and choice, but whatever, a deal was a deal.

John gave Cori another look.

The hole still very intact and having long since healed, he had taken the jewelry and, removing a bead, threaded it through with little difficulty. Once it was locked on, Constantine wiggled his member at Cori, showing that his cock was indeed not too pleased with the face, or the lack of warm lips embracing it.

"Turn it upside down."

The metal should have threaded with ease, large enough to fit snugly and prevent him from pissing two ways, small enough to not weigh it down in a gaudy manner.

A little wiggle and twitch caught the white blonde's attention, teeth eyes following the movement of those bright yellow faces.  Hell now he could see it coming from a mile away, but he'd have to be far closer to make that happen.  Still, the Corinthian was feeling very much like a tease tonight.

"Tell me you were counting the seconds till my return," he said to John, but couldn't keep himself from wetting his own lips at the sight of it.

Could Cori tease? John was willing to test that, seeing the look in those... er, teeth. He could read those ivories as well as any other pair of eyes by now. The pseudo-albino was hiding nothing.

"Counting them as the blokes were enjoying a dip in the piss." John had crept closer. Meanwhile, Twonky conveniently had changed the channel to yet another Japanese game show, these contestants in brightly colored traditional wear subjecting their crotches to automated hammers should they recite the tongue twister given incorrectly.

One in a bright green kimono was stooped over in pain as the black hammer recoiled back. Constantine was not paying attention, playing with himself, watching Cori.

Two very extremes here.  On one side the doorway to extreme pleasure (for Constantine) was thrown wide open.  On the other side, a comical act of extreme pain for the male gender.  Which one would he choose?  That was another dumb question.

Cori hardly paid Twonky any mind despite the raucous laughter from the audience and the cries of yamete from the contestants.  He pressed the tip of his finger to the tip of John's head.

"It isn't very happy to see me," the nightmare observed.  He turned his finger to drag it along the under side of the shaft.  "What is it with you British and kissing others hello?"

He lowered his lips to the Englishman's member, giving it a gentleman's kiss even the Queen could praise.

"It needs to warm up to your contribution," John purred, leaning back, although not missing this very intimate gesture between the Corinthian and his crabby extension. Despite this, Constantine was right; it was perking up, rising to the occasion in its own very usual way of greeting.

"I think it's giving in, mate." Already. It was hard to say no, but to say no was to make Cori try harder. A smirk had slid along John's features. "But it might change its mind."

"I never knew it to be so coy," said the Corinthian as if this were unusually charming.

He held his cock upright, gentle in manner but firm in direction.  John's growing erection bore the smiling face, one that'd find its way knocking against the back of his throat, but not yet.  They were still getting 'reacquainted' with each other, having not met in almost an agonizing 24 hours.

"Still tense," Cori said, referring to the hardness as his fingers brushed over the magus' thighs then through the patch of gold hair trailing down his pelvis.  Rather than wrap his lips around that cockhead, he licked at it.

Bloody agonizing was right, but there was always masturbation if the nightmare were to be too slow in his endeavor. That was, if John hadn't succumbed to throwing Cori arse up (not that Cori would mind... too much). 
 
"It's a penis, not a lollipop," John huffed, back arched, grasping the arm and cushion of the couch. A hand gave up on the cushion, settling for that head of white hair instead. Was he that sex addicted? Not that that'd be a major complication for Cori in any way, oh no...
 
"I think he's coming around," John added, his member quite stiff. "See for... yourself."

Not at all, though it was evident to the nightmare that John was not as curious about his own new metal, both of which remained hidden under his clothing.  Only the other man had lost his pants so far, unveiling the reddened suckerpop-like head.  He continued to lick it as such, fingers grasping his hair or not.

"What did you say," Cori asked in a murmur, lips brushing against that sensitive groove as he spoke.  He nipped the grinning face, cock very happy to see him it seemed.  "It wants to know where Freddy's been," asked the nightmare, his mouth finally wrapping around the shaft but going down only halfway.

Well, what could be adorning the other's cock? Constantine would be finding out, once he wasn't as immersed with his own sexual appetites. The patience-waning bit, that would allow for a lovely bit of unveiling. It could have been a moment in lost childhood, if it wasn't dripping with lust and hormones.
 
But Cori had to ask.
 
"Bring ol' Freddy out then." Hfft. That hand, the Corinthian's hair. Control. "Albert's been a touch lonely since the bloody museum bit..."

He released the other's cock to let his mouth do all the work, Cori balanced with a knee on the couch and a foot on the floor.  He always was the flexible sort.  Those faces knocked the back of his throat, slow and firm as the Corinthian's hands worked his own button fly open.

That frenum bar was hiding under his foreskin and briefs, the ends as subtle bumps under the fabric.  He pulled the waistband down, letting his growing erection bob out as he sucked particularly hard on John's shaft...  Only to pull his mouth off the Englishman completely and stand from the couch.  A nightmare with a mission.

Cori approached the nightstand, jeans and briefs snug on his thighs.  He fished the lube from the drawer.

Of course the product of Cori's careful choosing would yield something normal (not ridiculous) for the nightmare's frenum. Suppose that was his way of making sure Constantine would cut down on the one night stands, but he had no shame in his interesting taste in skivvies, now did he? His pair was resting on the floor with a brown paw print pattern.
 
They were giggling until it was time for business.
 
Bloody cheek. Constantine was considering reaching for the lube to acquaint his moody cock with the nightmare's rear when he had wondered what the piercing would feel like within himself. He held back, if just for a moment, to watch the nightmare and his intentions.

"I'm sticking with these," he commented to John upon his return, referring to his own style of skivvies as dexterous toes pinched the printed fabric for a looksie, then he let them drop back to the floor.

In all honestly a pair of boxers, be they a solid color, plaid, or the gods forbid eyeball print, would not fit under his jeans properly.  They'd scrunch at the thighs and disrupt the firm silhouette of his rear.  Nobody wanted to ruin that, least of all the nightmare himself.

Cori reclaimed his seat on the couch and immediately continued to suck at John's erection.  No hands involved, he was using them to spread the lubricant between his fingers, to warm it before applying the tips to the Englishman's rear.

An eyeball print would have tickled Constantine more than it should have. Looking down, from the way things were going, it appeared the Corinthian's intentions had been leaning towards insertion, his sharper ears catching the ever so slight flickers of lube sliding along Cori's flesh. John would let him, reknitting his fingers into the nightmare's hair to help... guide him. Constantine's foot, meanwhile, had sought out the Corinthian's cock. The better to get it in when it was hard.
 
Twonky sounded his sigh with stock documentary footage, faded and dull, of two German Shepherds viciously fucking, a voice describing the scene in Japanese.

The Japanese narration dubbed over a voice that might have sounded familiar to them, John in particular.  But John Lydon was more well known for his work on the grubs of the planet, or biting koalas.

Putting feet on the very tool that was going to invade his ass, Constantine better hope his own toes were clean.  Cori knew better, and out of care for the Englishman he swatted those toes away from his cock and smirked around John's.  That frenum bar looked no different from his old one, perhaps other than a change in color.  It was brushed metallic charcoal black.

"On your knees, old man," the nightmare purred against the cranky face.  He pulled his lips from the erection and removed his own shirt, revealing the new ring in his nipple.

Tch! Constantine was all the more tempted to footfuck the nightmare, certain of his own podal dexterity despite the rejection. What was so filthy around the flat anyway? Shit tumbled out from his arse on a daily basis and Cori walked on the cold, hard floor as well!

(Perhaps his toes were cold should they manage to brush. Lucky bastard and his normal jewelry. Constantine wanted to check on the bird that threaded him.)

John had given up on his footing endeavor, but he wasn't going to go arse up so easily. He was grinning, mellowed by his own ecstasy but far from completely compliant, admiring the new set glinting from the Corinthian's flesh.

"Great stuff, that, Cori." He stroked himself in the meantime, the German Shepherds having yet to stop. "Lovely."

A tease for a tease.  It was 'just desserts' for John he supposed, but those feet weren't going near his cock.  Not when the Corinthian wanted to exert his control.  Having a heavy constomping foot between his thighs would have made his next maneuver all the more dangerous.

"Thanks," he nodded once, appreciative for that stroking praise.

Then the nightmare grabbed both hairy legs to flip his lower body over, stomach down.  John could prevent such a measure by releasing his own todger, but doing so ran the risk of having his whole body weight come down on his very hard dick.  Decisions decisions.

That strength? That was something Constantine had to be thankful for. Scrambling to his elbows at the very least, if the nightmare wanted to be on top, in most cases it had to be proved to Constantine, especially with a very stiff cock throbbing between his legs. He was arseup, his tree tattoo always pointing towards the goal in that silent cheeky way.
 
"Thassright, mate," John puffed, resting on one elbow to allow his other hand to play with himself still. "I'm not going to let you 'ave it easy." He turned to smirk at Cori.

Ever the cool and calculating creature, Cori made sure John had enough room to rest his chin on the arm of their couch.  The magus could be as cheeky as he wanted, he had plans.  With his own black t-shirt still in tow, the Corinthian looped it under the man's arms then pulled it up to force them behind his back.  He quickly worked on a knot over those thick wrists.

This wasn't shibari rope but Cori certainly knew how to be resourceful.  He had to be around John Constantine.  The white blonde smiled.  Of course the man could always magic the knot away, but did he want to?  He pressed a moist middle finger around that ring piece.

"The feeling's mutual, babe."

Oh, now it had occurred to Cori to tie him down? John was chuckling as the nightmare worked his binds, his expression, should Cori have caught it, just begging him to try his best. The magus was not easy to bind down and the Corinthian was going to have to make an honest effort unless he wanted to be pressed against the couch cushion instead. 
 
He felt the first finger slide in. "Starting slow?" he grunted.

"Doing what I do best," he replied, knowing full well to relent was to give Constantine an opening to take control.

He fancied the man enjoyed having sexual control taken from him, but that pleasure had to contend with the magus' ego, a very dangerous force indeed.  Cori tightened his other hand on the makeshift t-shirt cuffs, as extra security.  One finger became two, adequately lubricating his hole while fingering John's prostate specifically.

"Looking out for... your best interests," his 'health' for one.  The Corinthian's knuckles slipped from that tight pucker to quickly and messily drizzle the lube over his own rock hard cock.  "All talk and no action makes you a cheap flashy crook," smirked the white blonde, poised to enter John's ass.  The cone ends rubbed against his skin, warming up from the other man's flesh.

"Magic words?"  His grip on the knotted shirt remained firm.

Cori knew where that prostate was too and thank Christ it wasn't uncomfortably swollen yet (would it ever?). John had to clench, wanting to jerk himself only to strain against the shirt instead. He could break out if he wanted to indeed, but tch, he'd let the nightmare have his way. For right now. His cheek rested against the couch cushion as he huffed, his erection testing his patience. He was fidgeting in need; he needed a hand down there, right now.
 
"Put the bloody thing in." His arse pressed against the head and its new piercing, relaxed and slick, awaiting entry. "Now," he snarled.

Those snarls did anything but intimidate the nightmare.  The tone of voice, the need dripping like the sweat off their skin, and that tight ass aching for him aroused Cori more than any touch to his cock.  The tongues in his eyes licked at his lashes as he pushed his hard dick into John's ass.

"Touchy," the white horror purred, his shaft buried a third of the way.  He thrust at a quick speed, short stroking the Englishman to stimulate that p-spot with his metal.  Cori used his grip on the shirt as leverage while his other hand sought John's neglected erection.  A reach around provided the jerking it seemed to desperately need.

Now, that was heaven, Constantine resting his cheek against the cushion once again as he closed his eyes, the nightmare's thrusting and stroking played out in color on the backs of his eyelids. His breath and skin were hot, shining with that sweat.
 
"Fuck, yes," he hissed in a shuddering whisper, tensing. That piercing, Christ that piercing was something missed. His hands made fists, gripping until the knuckles were white, nails into the palms. "Like that, Christ, like that."

His short strokes became long ones, deep till his thighs were slapping against that cheeky pine tree, balls swinging.  Once Cori was certain John wouldn't try to turn the tables he laid some of his weight on the magician's back, the rest supported by a palm on the edge of the couch seat.

"Like what, old man," he hissed his demand against the other's shoulder.  His cock pulled out far enough for a hard and deep thrust back in, to emphasize his request.  Cori's fingers pinched Constantine's piercing, then the rim around the end, rubbing it firmly.

"Like fucking harder," the magus grunted, puffing, his breathes swift and quick in the throes of his hot lust (or was this their way of displaying love?). He tightened as the nightmare quickly penetrated, the muscles in his arms tense as they continued their strain against the dark fabric. The nightmare's skin was as hot as his own, comforting and lovely.

"That's what... I like to hear," the Corinthian panted in reply.

If the rapid fucking was a display of pure lust then maybe Cori's next action was what made it love... in their own sort of way.  His lips licked along the crook of John's neck till he was suckling on the side of his throat.  Immaculate teeth grazed along that rough skin, mouth eager to leave a mark, the kind the magus would have for at least a few days.

An eyetongue flicked along the outer shell of John's ear.  He pumped his hand to milk out the precum, thighs pounding that ass enough to get the couch moving, just a little.

John should have been used to this by now, this sort of hard fucking he had pounded into Cori before, the sort of fucking that had left marks on the walls and post-its on the door. Cori could return the favor just as well, Constantine gritting his teeth as the nightmare's own had distracted him. He would have been without a nape if the Corinthian had not loved him, and that was talking lightly, prior to whatever liberties Cori would have taken with his body after.
 
A reformed serial killer or not, he would have not stopped at the nape upon returning to his old ways, but the Corinthian had loved John too much. John was sure of it, or so he had thought.
 
No more shagging once he was rotting anyway, right? Before the museum bit at least. He smiled against the warm fabric, the nightmare's breathing against his sensitive ear. His precum was flowing, possibly dripping, as his balls were tightening already.
 
"Is it still smiling?" Constantine mumbled.

He loved him and had his own way of showing it.  Just as John loved him, he was sure he did, and still showed it in his own subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) ways.  The nightmare wouldn't hurt those close to him.  Besides, Constantine couldn't be so old that he'd forgotten their safe word, right?

Cori paused in his suckling to comment, thumb sliding over from the happy side to the cranky one.  "Positively drooling," he replied, grinning against John's skin before resuming his nip.

He was going to make the Englishman orgasm hard, preferably loud, and hopefully everywhere.  Engaging in a couch shag provided the implied consent that John would help scrub any messes out of the seats.  His balls were aching to paint the cushions white, but his semen was reserved for the blonde's rear.

The Corinthian's body shuddered, pelvis pounding at a faster pace, close to climax.

No need for a duck, Constantine would have gasped, instead panting with the pressure and build up of a hard orgasm. He had to be impressed with the nightmare's timing, the flow of precum steady and hot. It appeared it would be him staining the couch again, one of the many times they had done before, but never was it too many. 
 
He knew the Corinthian's body cues and his amazing timing. Constantine's orgasm was inevitable, so he forced his pucker down tight against Cori's length. He had to wonder how loose he was now, especially compared to his first arrival in the City. 
 
Ah hell, might as well confirm it: "Gonna' -- hfft. Cori. Going to..." He couldn't finish.

"You're helping me... wash the covers," the nightmare grunted under his suckle.  Whether that was supposed to be a turn on or not...

His pace was becoming harder to control though the Corinthian still kept up his end of their coitus.  He was going to keep jamming that frenum till John's faces spit, no matter how tight his ringpiece squeezed on his cock.  A sweaty forehead pressed against the back of the magus' neck, Cori having let go of the couch to grab the base of his own dick, to keep his orgasm down.  It didn't stop him from pounding the fuck out of Constantine with the rest of his length.

"Spill it out, John," he urged, his other hand jacking furiously to make the old man cum.  Not that this was some sort of competition.

Constantine had no problem with that, howling with the wolves within Twonky behind them in his own beastly masculine growl, far from the pathetic groon of the other day. Colors flashed as his groin squeezed several of those familiar white streaks along the couch and floor, dribbling, puddling and staining while it soaked. He was gasping, chest heaving, while he recovered from the cold gush of raw basic pleasure that swam through his nerves and chilled his skin. Something of a sort of relief. It settled, letting him sinking to the couch.
 
He had to smile, having offered some difficulty in the Corinthian's courtesy in allowing him the ... say, pleasure of going first.

As long as John was satisfied, Cori was going to reap the benefits now.  He quickly pulled the knot on his shirt loose, staining the black fabric with some of the Englishman's semen.  The white was easily visible now.  Laundering was a definite must tomorrow.

He kissed the nape of the blonde's neck then took hold of both shoulders to vigorously thrust his way to orgasm.  Unlike John, his load spilled hotly in the man's rear (less mess, in theory), the nightmare's teeth squeezing shut as the pleasure rippled outward.  He groaned into his golden blonde hair, not a single strand of gray in sight... or was there?  But Cori wouldn't notice, much less mention it if he did.

"Was it good for you," he asked in a joking manner, smirking against their sweat.  Cori slowly pulled out, careful with his own piercing, only to plop along John's back.

John did not mind the weight of the nightmare on his back, still recovering, both sinking into the old couch. He could smell and taste the musk of fresh sex, the liquid heat trickle out from his arse. His recovered arms were folded under his head, comforted by the skin contact of the Corinthian. His yellow hair, indeed free of gray, was moist, as was the rest of his skin. His toes were momentarily numb.
 
"That is a daft question," was all John had managed. His cock must have been frowning again as it dangled, limpening. Give it another few hours, unless he picked up the tantric sex bollocks again. Should have. Cori would have been an excellent candidate for a partner to practice with

Daft because it was a given.  He smirked between the kisses he delivered along Constantine's back, over every bump that formed his spine till he reached that useless human tailbone.  His tongue dipped below the crevice, to lick at the semen sliding towards his balls.

"You're still doing some laundry tomorrow," the Corinthian insisted, giving that pine tree a pinch for emphasis.

John snorted, relaxed against the comfortable cushions, worn against their other excursions and days where they let Twonky decide what was on while they scratched their sacs. His skin, despite that age, was still surprisingly taut over his muscles and bones, plump and strong. There was a small glow of health that wanted to glimmer, which would have been considerably brighter should the magus have dropped his vices completely. Pissing on a candle, really.
 
"You made me," he mumbled, closing his eyes as the white-haired phantom cleaned the trickle ebbing from within him.

Definitely strong and good looking for his age.  It didn't matter if that was the case because Constantine had a taint of the supernatural in him.  Nothing about the Corinthian's body was 'natural' either.  Unfortunately the Englishman was not as well-oiled a machine as Cori, or was that an advantage?

He smiled as the other succumbed to a pleasant satisfaction that could lull him to sleep.  The better to throw choices at John when his judgment was lax.

"Promise," asked the nightmare, his chin resting on the small of John's back again.

Tch! Constantine was not going to fall for this sense of really... nice, relaxing, delightful sensation of being cleaned instead of dripping even more on the stained couch. He was not budging, more than content to sleep on his semen stain, sandwiched between the couch and Cori. He had a clever something for his current placement, but he was too drowsy to remember.
 
Not drowsy enough to let what Cori said slide though, grumbling a slur that showcased his accent: "Promise wot."

"Laundry duty, asshole," said the nightmare as his fingers circled around John's to gather the remaining traces of semen.  "You and me, the couch, the bed sheets, your only black shirt," he smirked, not one to let Constantine slide either.

Among that list of things, only one article had particularly caught Constantine's interest: "I thought that was your shirt, mate."

"Oops," Cori sounded with little apology and a heck of a lot more mischief as he licked his fingers clean.

"You made me soil me good shirt," John growled into his arms, although hardly ready to take action. The magus had stolen his fair share of clothing from the nightmare's wardrobe as it was. They were about the same size, never mind the ball-choking trousers, er, jeans that made erections fucking painful.

"Punish me in the morning," Cori suggested, however quite sure that John didn't have the energy to even cuff his chin.  He wrapped his arms around the man's torso, hugging his body close.

"Right on it," John distantly ... warned. He put it off until morn, when he wasn't so heavy and ready to nod off. The warmth and hold of the latched Corinthian was not helping his conscious either.

Oh well.