tampered | Log: Ongoing

Log: Ongoing

When; Oct. 23 (midnight)
Rating; R tentatively
Characters; Nicholas D. Wolfwood

nico_oniichan, the Corinthian

bitingnightmare
Summary; Wolfwood comes to complete a deal with the nightmare for a soul.
Log;

The nightmare waited in the shadows but his white hair was as obvious as the moon in a darkened sky. His skin matched its color tone for tone, an unnatural creature of the night with sunglasses hiding his teeth eyes. He wasn't feeling even the slightest bit intoxicated from drinking earlier, his cheeks hardly flushed from the alcohol. A cigarette glowed warm orange between his fingers, burning close to the blue line under the label Mild Seven.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood, seemingly the pride of Vash's life. He remembered burrowing into the blonde man's nightmares, picking at the worms of his memories. Cori knew Nicholas as Vash saw him. No sense in wasting such an excellent opportunity to ruin. Even Rosiel would feel the repercussions of this exchange, that appealed to the Corinthian as well. He waited for the preacher to appear.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A deal was a deal, or at least he hoped. If he was completely honest with himself, Wolfwood didn't have shit to go on other than some creepy fuck's word that he'd hand his soul over to an angel with a god complex that could rival Knives. But he was desperate, and fucking a stranger seemed like a better alternative to having to force someone into handing their soul over.

That didn't stop him from cleaning himself up, however; showering and changing into a raggedy pair of jeans and a dark sweatshirt. Hadn't bothered to shave at all, too bad if the asshole didn't like it. This was all about business, and he was going to keep it that way.

Hair still damp from the shower, he hurried toward the Coliseum, Punisher left behind in his apartment but his .45 sitting in its holster against his ribs. Just in case.

It wasn't long before he showed, lit cigarette at the corner of his mouth. He stood by the entrance of the pub for some time, taking one last drag before throwing the butt down and crushing it with the heel of his shoe.

"Ya could stop dickin' 'round, y'know." He drawled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as he glanced towards the Corinthian. It was like everyone thought they were the next Legato Bluesummers, for Christ's sake.

Funny, that, because he pre-dated Bluesummers by at least two millennia, however Nicholas didn't need to know the nightmare was as old as the island of Corinth itself. Cori didn't always appreciate his many years, preferring to roll with what he had once said to Loki, I am young, true, but I have age within me.

The preacher's voice caught his attention. Smoke drifted from all three mouths as he took another pull then upnodded to his right, indicating that Wolfwood should walk with him. If he still needed a soul anyway. He could smell the freshly bathed scent off his skin.

"You're thinking how the fuck can you be sure that I'll hand my soul over after this," he said with a presumptuous puff of smoke to Nicholas. "I know if I didn't, you'd come gunning for my ass with that firearm in your shoulder rig." Cori had a concealed weapon too; a plain old balisong in his boot, "and why should I trust you?"

The Corinthian tossed his cigarette then ducked into a side alley, reaching out to pull the other man with him by the sleeve. He brazenly pressed Nicholas up against the brick wall, all business really. "Because if you shoot me now, you don't get your soul. Everything works out."

TThere was a slight hesitation on his part before he moved to follow the nightmare, not bothering to hide his irritation. Hadn't he just told him to stop dicking around? The goddamn pub was right there.

Wolfwood stayed a step behind, back and shoulders slouching out of habit. "I think I'd go outta my way ta find heavier artillery for shovin' up yer ass," the vicious smirk on his lips served as a warning that he was hardly kidding, "Y'know. If you were bull shittin' me on this deal."

His only sign of discomfort was that his eyes didn't stray once from the Corinthian. He could go on and on about why he should trust him all he wanted. It wouldn't change a thing. Something about the guy didn't sit right with the priest, and he had a feeling it wasn't just the glimpse he'd gotten of those eyes.

Grabbing his sleeve had caught him by surprise but there was no resistance on his part as he went into the alley. There wasn't much he honestly could thank the Eye of Michael for, but quick reflexes saving him from stumbling and looking like an idiot had to be one of them. So, he wasn't going throw out the cash for a room. Fucking peachy. He could add public indecency to his ever growing list of crimes.

Personal space sufficiently invaded, he willed his mind and body to relax, get over it, whatever the fuck he had to call it. Lashing out at him wouldn't get him anywhere, except maybe a sore fist and just as fucked as he'd been not long before. He didn't want this, no matter how his body might react, but he had a need that the asshole had offered to fulfill. And if that meant Doumeki went free, he could suck it up and deal. Even if the others hated him, and Vash... No, now wasn't the time to think about him. Anything else he gave to himself would just feel like another excuse. His body went from rigid to pliable in an instant.

"So I can shoot you later?" Another smirk with the sole intension of irritating him into getting this over with quicker, his hips pushing forward.

"I wouldn't stop you from trying," the nightmare growled against the crook of Nicholas' neck. He pulled his own sunglasses off so that his left eyemouth could bite the lobe of his ear firmly. His eyetongue was rough, almost like a feline's. Cori gripped the brunette between the thighs, heel of his palm kneading his balls under his jeans. "If you still feel like it," he uttered.

The Corinthian felt he had the talent and skill to make Wolfwood enjoy it, even if he wasn't his precious Vash.

He wanted to kill him for saying that, wanted to laugh, or tell him to go fuck himself, but all he could manage was a soft hiss of breath, and an uncontrollable shudder as those teeth bit down. Still felt like it? Sure, whatever, just as long as he kept touching.

No, he wasn't his precious Vash, the Corinthian was something else entirely. Against his mantra of not to touch, to let him do all the work, a large, calloused hand cupped the beginnings of a tent in his pants. The other held tight to Cori's hip, to keep him from running his fingers through ebony spikes that weren't there.

Were he interested in fucking himself Nicholas wouldn't be here in the first place. The Corinthian savored that. His small rows of ivory grazed the brunette's skin, under his ear and to his throat as his natural tongue licked along Wolfwood's collar bone. He worked that sweatshirt open, his shirt upward to firmly pinch his nipple. Had his precious blonde ever treated him thusly? Both of them.

Cori pulled at the hand covering his erection. No time for foreplay, that was for couples. His fingers undid Nicholas' jeans quickly only to force the man around. He would have liked to look into the preacher's eyes but doing so would give the nightmare too much information. Their deal was one fuck for a soul, not to connect on a deep and emotional level.

Vash had never been a big fan of teeth, preferring to mark where neck met shoulder with love-bites, and nips that didn't leave a mark. He preferred Wolfwood's stomach, knew to avoid his left side--one of the few prominent scars he had on his entire body--when he was going down on him. Vash was indeed precious, the Corinthian experienced--wringing soft exclamations from the priest, back curving towards his touch and exposing his neck further--but it was similar to sex he'd had with humans, adding two extra mouths. Vash wasn't human, not even in the slightest; the things exchanging energy and those feathers could do sent him on a high that was unrivaled.

Wolfwood made a short huff of protest when he was turned around, tempted to argue but this is what he'd started off wanting. Getting it over with. He braced himself against the wall; his right arm pressed to the brick, forehead leaning on it and spread his legs. He knew how this was done.

"You'd better have brought a fuckin' rubber," he growled out, not bothering to look over his shoulder, "And lube." He'd bitch if he hadn't brought a condom and eventually give in, but no lube meant this wasn't going to happen. He didn't do spit, and he sure as hell wasn't about to let anyone fuck him dry.

"I was a fag when you lot were still using lambskins and olive oil," the Corinthian smirked as he brushed his lips over the back of Wolfwood's neck.

How the hell did mortal men survive in this century without their Lifestyle and Astroglide? Fortunately Cori wasn't one to take chances, not just with their health (he felt Nicholas was more than human) but also with the magic one can do with such remnant fluid. It was just as powerful as blood. For this very reason the nightmare fished a condom out of his pocket. He quickly unzipped himself to roll the polyurethane over his hardening cock then pulled the lubricant from his jacket.

"Relax," Cori requested, dry fingers tugging Wolfwood's waistband down before coated fingers found their way to his ringpiece, "I don't want to use the whole tube on you."

Lambskin and olive oil? The joke was lost on him, Earth's history had all but been erased by the sands of home. Only those with access to technology had those kinds of records and they'd always been stingy bastards about sharing.

Wolfwood didn't bother to glance over his shoulder as the Corinthian rustled behind him, believing that he knew what he was doing. The guy was experienced, definitely more than him, he'd give him that. But then again, he hadn't been around long enough to legally claim himself an adult.

He rolled his eyes a little, reluctant to accept that it was an instinctive reflex to tense up when he was like this. Even more so when he didn't even know the name of the guy fucking him. "Fine," he sounded clipped and irate, though after a few deep breaths, the tension is his muscles eased away, his eyes closed. The less he had to think and just feel, the quicker this would be.

The nightmare didn't expect Nicholas to care for his name, he'd learn it eventually. Not only that, he was certain they wouldn't be calling each other's names in blind fucking ecstasy. This wasn't that kind of screw, it lacked everything most people considered special about intimacy. Of course, just as many people appreciated the sheer honesty of wanton lust, pleasure without strings attached. Too bad this incident had chains of contract bound to it, otherwise Cori might have found Wolfwood better company.

He removed his fingers to press the tip of his erection against the other man's sphincter, slowly but firmly inserting himself into Nicholas. Maybe he'd feel the 10g frenum bar just under Cori's uncut cockhead rubbing against his prostate. Even with the circumstances surrounding their meeting, few could hold back the enjoyment of having an extra bit for stimulation. Or was Wolfwood that stoned-faced?

"Ahh," Cori sounded, already settling into a rhythm.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Log: Ongoing

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject