Post by Alec Individual on Feb 28, 2007 1:10:51 GMT -5
Balthazar was used to the habit he'd acquired in his human body of simply wandering the streets, bar after bar, indulging that human joy of intoxication. Then he'd sit somewhere, in a park perhaps, and sip a water bottle, recently stolen and unmissed from a liquor store. Then suddenly his thoughts were turned to Constantine. That bastard was always sneaking his way into the half-breed's thoughts. Some times it wasn't so unwelcome as he claims.
Constantine. Constantine…Such simplicity it's impossible not to merely say it out of impulse of thought. I always love to see John when he doesn't see me. It gives me a sense of power. This power I'd exploit if only I didn't fear the headache induced by that damn screech beetle. Didn't I get rid of the little pest that gave my exorcist such things? Yes, my exorcist. Allow me to explain…
Constantine has a paranoia that makes him almost untouchable by the damned. He carries with him, almost always, some sort of holy relic—cross, rosary, etc. He thinks it is protection from the lingering demons that follow him, wanting his head. He thinks it is protection from me. Now this is complete idiocy, for nothing could keep my hands off him if I was given the chance to get close to him. This chance, I've been given many times—making me wonder if He is some how aiding me in my tormenting of the human.
I usually never get far because John is rather clever with his hands when they're both free. Holding them down makes it rather boring for me so this time I devised a solution. I swiped a pair of handcuffs from a police officer at a doughnut shop. The fool didn't even notice, though I do not doubt he was too fat to catch me anyway. Now I just have to wait for Constantine to make his commonly occurring walk from confessional at the church.
Well, speak of the devil…
The half-breed stood then, and he fell into step behind the black decorated exorcist. From a distance, Balthazar could see the flickering of a lighter and the puff of smoke that emitted from a cigarette that disappeared as it moved from the light of the lamppost. John didn't suspect a thing. The demon was almost invisible in the shadows, keeping himself hidden should his prey turn around. Slowly, Balthazar approached, closing the distance with silent steps. When he was close enough he timed it just right and grabbed the exorcist's collar, pulling a struggling John into a thin, dark alley, lit only by the occasional passing car.
Constantine had a gun this time. It was pointed at Balthazar's head, though somewhat off, being that the half-breed had a grip on both his hands. "Let go of me, you half-breed piece of shit," John hissed, using his usually insult.
"Or what, Johnny-boy?" Balthazar shot back, "You'll shoot me? I hope you have to right bullets." His grip tightened on John's gun hand to a painful degree. By the look on the smaller man's face, the bullets were not, in fact, adequate for Balthazar's demise. "Well, then why don't you just drop this?"
John sucked in a breath in pain and his hand released the gun, which clattered to the ground. Balthazar then slammed both of his captive's hands against the wall. Before the exorcist could say anything else he found his mouth very much occupied by the demon's lips. He struggled, of course, as he did every time, but that only fueled Balthazar's intent.
John squirmed, and he became a little more rigid when he felt the cold metal wrap around his wrist. He shook his head out of the kiss and looked to see he was shackled to a rusty, metal loop that stuck from the plaster that made the wall. "Damn it, Balthazar," he said trying to sound as intimidating as possible. "I'm not your play thing."
"Au contraire," Balthazar hissed in his ear, "and I don't think you're as unwilling as you make yourself out to be." The demon took his now free hand and stroked John's thigh gently, teasingly close to the groin. John made a noise somewhat similar to a 'fuck off,' but it was buried by a moan that Balthazar's clever fingers extracted. "Don't fight it, Johnny-boy, enjoy it."
Constantine's knees buckled a little so that his captor had to keep him from falling. Balthazar had hold of him between the legs and was working to unbutton John's shirt with his teeth. A forked tongue slid up the exorcist's chest. As the demon moved his head up, he bit John's neck, right below the chin drawing a thin line of blood that ran in a straight line. Balthazar lapped at the blood, causing the muscles beneath his tongue to shiver once more.
"Balthazar, let me go home," John said quietly, almost—ALMOST—pleadingly. "I'm tired."
"You're hard," Balthazar countered, "I'm not going to skip this." He forced his hand down the front of John's pants to do some unseen things resulting in John's making quite a few interesting noises.
"Fuck!" John exclaimed, his head going back against the wall with his eyes clenched shut, "Follow me home if you fucking want!"
Balthazar withdrew his hand and grabbed John's chin, pulling his face down. "Would you feel more comfortable in that stuffy apartment?" he teased, "You have to promise I can do whatever I want with you."
"Why, you would anyway," John said angrily. Still Balthazar was unconvinced. He ran two fingers over the pale flesh that was his enemy's chest. "Fine whatever the hell you want. I'm yours, for one fucking night."
"We'll see, John, we'll see."
Constantine. Constantine…Such simplicity it's impossible not to merely say it out of impulse of thought. I always love to see John when he doesn't see me. It gives me a sense of power. This power I'd exploit if only I didn't fear the headache induced by that damn screech beetle. Didn't I get rid of the little pest that gave my exorcist such things? Yes, my exorcist. Allow me to explain…
Constantine has a paranoia that makes him almost untouchable by the damned. He carries with him, almost always, some sort of holy relic—cross, rosary, etc. He thinks it is protection from the lingering demons that follow him, wanting his head. He thinks it is protection from me. Now this is complete idiocy, for nothing could keep my hands off him if I was given the chance to get close to him. This chance, I've been given many times—making me wonder if He is some how aiding me in my tormenting of the human.
I usually never get far because John is rather clever with his hands when they're both free. Holding them down makes it rather boring for me so this time I devised a solution. I swiped a pair of handcuffs from a police officer at a doughnut shop. The fool didn't even notice, though I do not doubt he was too fat to catch me anyway. Now I just have to wait for Constantine to make his commonly occurring walk from confessional at the church.
Well, speak of the devil…
The half-breed stood then, and he fell into step behind the black decorated exorcist. From a distance, Balthazar could see the flickering of a lighter and the puff of smoke that emitted from a cigarette that disappeared as it moved from the light of the lamppost. John didn't suspect a thing. The demon was almost invisible in the shadows, keeping himself hidden should his prey turn around. Slowly, Balthazar approached, closing the distance with silent steps. When he was close enough he timed it just right and grabbed the exorcist's collar, pulling a struggling John into a thin, dark alley, lit only by the occasional passing car.
Constantine had a gun this time. It was pointed at Balthazar's head, though somewhat off, being that the half-breed had a grip on both his hands. "Let go of me, you half-breed piece of shit," John hissed, using his usually insult.
"Or what, Johnny-boy?" Balthazar shot back, "You'll shoot me? I hope you have to right bullets." His grip tightened on John's gun hand to a painful degree. By the look on the smaller man's face, the bullets were not, in fact, adequate for Balthazar's demise. "Well, then why don't you just drop this?"
John sucked in a breath in pain and his hand released the gun, which clattered to the ground. Balthazar then slammed both of his captive's hands against the wall. Before the exorcist could say anything else he found his mouth very much occupied by the demon's lips. He struggled, of course, as he did every time, but that only fueled Balthazar's intent.
John squirmed, and he became a little more rigid when he felt the cold metal wrap around his wrist. He shook his head out of the kiss and looked to see he was shackled to a rusty, metal loop that stuck from the plaster that made the wall. "Damn it, Balthazar," he said trying to sound as intimidating as possible. "I'm not your play thing."
"Au contraire," Balthazar hissed in his ear, "and I don't think you're as unwilling as you make yourself out to be." The demon took his now free hand and stroked John's thigh gently, teasingly close to the groin. John made a noise somewhat similar to a 'fuck off,' but it was buried by a moan that Balthazar's clever fingers extracted. "Don't fight it, Johnny-boy, enjoy it."
Constantine's knees buckled a little so that his captor had to keep him from falling. Balthazar had hold of him between the legs and was working to unbutton John's shirt with his teeth. A forked tongue slid up the exorcist's chest. As the demon moved his head up, he bit John's neck, right below the chin drawing a thin line of blood that ran in a straight line. Balthazar lapped at the blood, causing the muscles beneath his tongue to shiver once more.
"Balthazar, let me go home," John said quietly, almost—ALMOST—pleadingly. "I'm tired."
"You're hard," Balthazar countered, "I'm not going to skip this." He forced his hand down the front of John's pants to do some unseen things resulting in John's making quite a few interesting noises.
"Fuck!" John exclaimed, his head going back against the wall with his eyes clenched shut, "Follow me home if you fucking want!"
Balthazar withdrew his hand and grabbed John's chin, pulling his face down. "Would you feel more comfortable in that stuffy apartment?" he teased, "You have to promise I can do whatever I want with you."
"Why, you would anyway," John said angrily. Still Balthazar was unconvinced. He ran two fingers over the pale flesh that was his enemy's chest. "Fine whatever the hell you want. I'm yours, for one fucking night."
"We'll see, John, we'll see."