(no subject)
Nov. 6th, 2006 11:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teetheyesRaining flowers and fireworks makes a fucking mess on the street. Whose idea was that? And if anyone sees John (trenchcoat or white dog) tell him we need to talk.
((OOC: omake-ism, took place near the end of this, uh... warning for violence and disturbing imagery?))
He let the warm water run down his back, into the bites on the nape of his neck, between his thighs where the red and white came together and swirled down the drain. No matter how much he washed he still couldn’t feel clean enough. Even now he could sense his muscles tensing, his body squeezing the warm semen out, slowly, painfully. He didn’t want to wonder how many damn cups the man had left inside him but his mind wouldn’t keep him from entertaining the thought. A lot.
There was a time the Corinthian would have agreed to visit a hospital, to subject himself to an examination and tests. Those were necessary precautions, necessary steps in the case of a bad accident. This was a very bad accident. He chose to stay, to heal up in quiet solitude because his body didn’t need those things. His body needed only time, and all immortals had all the time in the world.
He left the confines of the shower once the water ran clear, rubbed the heel of his palm against the warm steam that had fogged up the mirror to check the wound on his face. Only a small self-inflicted bite, it had already stopped bleeding, no one would see it behind his bottom lip.
“He had you over a fucking barrel didn’t he,” the voice spoke so casually, hardly the sound of a phantom creeping into the night.
The Corinthian perched on the tub, one foot on the edge, the other on the tile floor. There wasn’t a stitch on him and his body carried no wounds, but he too bared the metal through his nipple, through his frenum. His eyes were clearly teeth.
The Corinthian stood at the mirror, both feet on the tile floor, not a stitch on him to conceal the bruises, the scratches on his hips, the punctures in his neck. At least his metal had survived the ordeal, and his eyes; well… eye had been left intact.
“Yeah that’s what I thought. Hell, you’ll be as good as new in a few days,” the nightmare waved a hand at the other, his successor, “can’t say much for your horrible sense of self-respect though.”
He bristled over his predecessor’s words. Self-respect? No it wasn’t that he’d sacrificed his self-respect; it was John he didn’t want to sacrifice.
“Don’t give me that look. You’re the fucking Dream Lord’s bitch, how’s this any different,” the phantom laughed.
“Get out,” Cori uttered under his breath, eyes on the mirror.
“You know I can’t. Does it eat you up, boy? Knowing you’re the fucking dark mirror of everyone, including yourself,” the Corinthian smiled, delighted. “One little shit left alive in east bumblefuck, Georgia… How many boys weren’t so lucky?”
Who’s the big bad wolf now? Keep squealing, keep crying, it makes the cum run faster.
Cori kept his eyes open, knowing should he close them he’d see the speaker, see the silenced victim, and remember the feel of soft wool between his claws as the wolf held the lamb down, held it down till it was sticky red.
“It’s not the same. I didn’t give two flying fucks about them,” he said, shaking his head.
“My mistake,” said the Corinthian with a smile as sharp as the edge of his favorite blade, “you wouldn’t dare hurt the ones you love.”
“I’m not in love with him,” the other nightmare retorted.
“Well there you have a dilemma,” the predecessor gestured with his open palm, “and far be it for us to break tradition right? Died in a churchyard in Essex, hanged for treason, and who can forget William and Charles.” That last name, he said it with an air of malicious fondness.
“You bring up a past I know but never did like I would give a god damned shit about it,” the successor smirked.
The Corinthian licked the tip of his finger. “Died in the throes of lupine lust. Downright embarrassing if you ask me.”
The younger nightmare was already out the door, trailing water under his feet.
The other one laughed again, tongues licking his smooth white teeth. “For fuck’s sake you’re easy.”
“I care for you enough to kill you now before you hurt anyone else, it’s better that way,” the Corinthian purred lovingly, his hands wrapped around the magus’ neck.
They were still tied, like mates, only now he was on top, and John forced against the table. With a little bit of effort and the lowest of moans the nightmare managed to disengage himself from the other, numb to the pain and blood and semen. The Englishman, caught between shapes, didn’t have the proper jaw to reply. His bulky clawed hands gripped the nightmare’s wrists, leaving marks, but to no avail.
“Nnrgh… Co—“
Cori lifted the mandog by the throat then slammed the back of his head through the stained wood, splintering it, driving his hybrid skull into the floor. John had cried out, a mixture of a whine and a man’s groan. His white fur started to recede, giving way for his blonde hair again.
“Don’t think showing me your old face is going to save you,” said the nightmare emotionlessly, soullessly, as he retrieved his knife. The same balisong blade that was always by his side.
“Cori…” the man managed to speak under his more human tongue.
The Corinthian flipped the knife out with deft skill; he always was good with his hands. He knelt beside John, studying him as if he might have second thoughts. Not really. He ran his hand through the magus’ hair with affection, and then twisted his fingers into a solid grip as the tip of his knife sliced into John’s lower back.
Constantine yelled, screamed, screams that turned into hollow gasps as the Corinthian severed his nerves, destroyed his spine. Blue eyes widened against the floor, his limbs had become phantoms, his brain functioning, his senses still delivering information, but without a machine to control. His body was useless.
“Feels great, doesn’t it,” said the nightmare, warm breath against the magus’ cheek. He kissed him there.
He knew that wide blue gaze, could feel John’s mind. Anguish. Betrayal. Fury. Regret. Magic. No, they wouldn’t have any magic at their party. His eyes were beautiful.
Cori turned the immobilized man face up, regrettably not in his lap. He straddled his waist, knees in a pool of blood that belonged to both Constantine and himself. How touching. He lifted the magus by the sides of his face, looked him in the eye, saw his mouths reflected in them. He kissed John, deeply, and let his teeth do the rest.
False memories. False memories implanted in his head.
He wasn’t so stupid to think that he would kill and deny it ever occurred, deny he could hurt his friend in such a manner. He tried to wish the corpse of Constantine away. The full moonlight bathed the magic man’s skin in hues of blue and yellow. The shadows remained pitch black, crisp and still, present like the stench of nightmare, present like the blood puddles under him, the red streaked across the couch, the spatters that decorated the wall, the bloodied pucker of his ass ravaged by more than just a cock, the fingers severed only inches from his hands when he had tried to move them, the gore in his hair and on his cheeks from blue eyes that had been chewed out of his skull.
False memories.
Cori couldn’t take his eyes off the scene of the crime. He brought his hands to his face, felt the blood streaks that trickled from teeth to chin. Still hot. So very hot…
He let the warm water run down his back, into the bites on the nape of his neck, between his thighs where the red and white came together and swirled down the drain. The Corinthian remained curled on the floor of the tub, under the showerhead that had warmed him into slumber.
Only a nightmare.
Sometimes that was all it really took.
((OOC: omake-ism, took place near the end of this, uh... warning for violence and disturbing imagery?))
He let the warm water run down his back, into the bites on the nape of his neck, between his thighs where the red and white came together and swirled down the drain. No matter how much he washed he still couldn’t feel clean enough. Even now he could sense his muscles tensing, his body squeezing the warm semen out, slowly, painfully. He didn’t want to wonder how many damn cups the man had left inside him but his mind wouldn’t keep him from entertaining the thought. A lot.
There was a time the Corinthian would have agreed to visit a hospital, to subject himself to an examination and tests. Those were necessary precautions, necessary steps in the case of a bad accident. This was a very bad accident. He chose to stay, to heal up in quiet solitude because his body didn’t need those things. His body needed only time, and all immortals had all the time in the world.
He left the confines of the shower once the water ran clear, rubbed the heel of his palm against the warm steam that had fogged up the mirror to check the wound on his face. Only a small self-inflicted bite, it had already stopped bleeding, no one would see it behind his bottom lip.
“He had you over a fucking barrel didn’t he,” the voice spoke so casually, hardly the sound of a phantom creeping into the night.
The Corinthian perched on the tub, one foot on the edge, the other on the tile floor. There wasn’t a stitch on him and his body carried no wounds, but he too bared the metal through his nipple, through his frenum. His eyes were clearly teeth.
The Corinthian stood at the mirror, both feet on the tile floor, not a stitch on him to conceal the bruises, the scratches on his hips, the punctures in his neck. At least his metal had survived the ordeal, and his eyes; well… eye had been left intact.
“Yeah that’s what I thought. Hell, you’ll be as good as new in a few days,” the nightmare waved a hand at the other, his successor, “can’t say much for your horrible sense of self-respect though.”
He bristled over his predecessor’s words. Self-respect? No it wasn’t that he’d sacrificed his self-respect; it was John he didn’t want to sacrifice.
“Don’t give me that look. You’re the fucking Dream Lord’s bitch, how’s this any different,” the phantom laughed.
“Get out,” Cori uttered under his breath, eyes on the mirror.
“You know I can’t. Does it eat you up, boy? Knowing you’re the fucking dark mirror of everyone, including yourself,” the Corinthian smiled, delighted. “One little shit left alive in east bumblefuck, Georgia… How many boys weren’t so lucky?”
Who’s the big bad wolf now? Keep squealing, keep crying, it makes the cum run faster.
Cori kept his eyes open, knowing should he close them he’d see the speaker, see the silenced victim, and remember the feel of soft wool between his claws as the wolf held the lamb down, held it down till it was sticky red.
“It’s not the same. I didn’t give two flying fucks about them,” he said, shaking his head.
“My mistake,” said the Corinthian with a smile as sharp as the edge of his favorite blade, “you wouldn’t dare hurt the ones you love.”
“I’m not in love with him,” the other nightmare retorted.
“Well there you have a dilemma,” the predecessor gestured with his open palm, “and far be it for us to break tradition right? Died in a churchyard in Essex, hanged for treason, and who can forget William and Charles.” That last name, he said it with an air of malicious fondness.
“You bring up a past I know but never did like I would give a god damned shit about it,” the successor smirked.
The Corinthian licked the tip of his finger. “Died in the throes of lupine lust. Downright embarrassing if you ask me.”
The younger nightmare was already out the door, trailing water under his feet.
The other one laughed again, tongues licking his smooth white teeth. “For fuck’s sake you’re easy.”
“I care for you enough to kill you now before you hurt anyone else, it’s better that way,” the Corinthian purred lovingly, his hands wrapped around the magus’ neck.
They were still tied, like mates, only now he was on top, and John forced against the table. With a little bit of effort and the lowest of moans the nightmare managed to disengage himself from the other, numb to the pain and blood and semen. The Englishman, caught between shapes, didn’t have the proper jaw to reply. His bulky clawed hands gripped the nightmare’s wrists, leaving marks, but to no avail.
“Nnrgh… Co—“
Cori lifted the mandog by the throat then slammed the back of his head through the stained wood, splintering it, driving his hybrid skull into the floor. John had cried out, a mixture of a whine and a man’s groan. His white fur started to recede, giving way for his blonde hair again.
“Don’t think showing me your old face is going to save you,” said the nightmare emotionlessly, soullessly, as he retrieved his knife. The same balisong blade that was always by his side.
“Cori…” the man managed to speak under his more human tongue.
The Corinthian flipped the knife out with deft skill; he always was good with his hands. He knelt beside John, studying him as if he might have second thoughts. Not really. He ran his hand through the magus’ hair with affection, and then twisted his fingers into a solid grip as the tip of his knife sliced into John’s lower back.
Constantine yelled, screamed, screams that turned into hollow gasps as the Corinthian severed his nerves, destroyed his spine. Blue eyes widened against the floor, his limbs had become phantoms, his brain functioning, his senses still delivering information, but without a machine to control. His body was useless.
“Feels great, doesn’t it,” said the nightmare, warm breath against the magus’ cheek. He kissed him there.
He knew that wide blue gaze, could feel John’s mind. Anguish. Betrayal. Fury. Regret. Magic. No, they wouldn’t have any magic at their party. His eyes were beautiful.
Cori turned the immobilized man face up, regrettably not in his lap. He straddled his waist, knees in a pool of blood that belonged to both Constantine and himself. How touching. He lifted the magus by the sides of his face, looked him in the eye, saw his mouths reflected in them. He kissed John, deeply, and let his teeth do the rest.
False memories. False memories implanted in his head.
He wasn’t so stupid to think that he would kill and deny it ever occurred, deny he could hurt his friend in such a manner. He tried to wish the corpse of Constantine away. The full moonlight bathed the magic man’s skin in hues of blue and yellow. The shadows remained pitch black, crisp and still, present like the stench of nightmare, present like the blood puddles under him, the red streaked across the couch, the spatters that decorated the wall, the bloodied pucker of his ass ravaged by more than just a cock, the fingers severed only inches from his hands when he had tried to move them, the gore in his hair and on his cheeks from blue eyes that had been chewed out of his skull.
False memories.
Cori couldn’t take his eyes off the scene of the crime. He brought his hands to his face, felt the blood streaks that trickled from teeth to chin. Still hot. So very hot…
He let the warm water run down his back, into the bites on the nape of his neck, between his thighs where the red and white came together and swirled down the drain. The Corinthian remained curled on the floor of the tub, under the showerhead that had warmed him into slumber.
Only a nightmare.
Sometimes that was all it really took.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 06:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 07:00 am (UTC)No, he walked out.He hasn't come in since morning.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 07:43 am (UTC)You two were getting along so well too! D; I'm sure it's just a silly
lover'squarrel! He's probably off brooding somewhere!no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 07:45 am (UTC)1/2
Date: 2006-11-07 07:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 07:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 08:04 am (UTC)I'm sure he just needs time to think.
no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 08:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 08:11 am (UTC)...Now! I'm sure he'll notice if you post up a naked picture of yours! Then he'll come stomping down and yelling at you for doing something stupid!
I think anyway~!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 08:12 am (UTC)((OOC: oh Kan-chan XD))
no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 08:22 am (UTC)I'll make it good!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-07 08:23 am (UTC)