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"Keep telling yourself that, let me know how it works out for you."
He can hear Bruce rummaging around for something - or several somethings - in those drawers of his and Constantine starts trying to pick out what it might be based off the sounds. Bruce is more of a leather fan than latex, and they aren't in the right space for anything as tame as silk. There's the heavy clink of metal on metal, and he tries to think what might involve chains or anything similar that he's seen before. He's coming up empty, and the pin is making it difficult for Constantine to even try getting a look.
Fortunately it seems he'll not have to wait long before getting a much better idea of what Bruce is planning. He's already rising the moment the weight is off of him, but with that order, Constantine shifts to the demanded position. Hard not to feel excited like this, ass in the air, cock still hard and aching between his legs, and the slight chill left from Bruce's absence making his skin prickle.
He can hear Bruce rummaging around for something - or several somethings - in those drawers of his and Constantine starts trying to pick out what it might be based off the sounds. Bruce is more of a leather fan than latex, and they aren't in the right space for anything as tame as silk. There's the heavy clink of metal on metal, and he tries to think what might involve chains or anything similar that he's seen before. He's coming up empty, and the pin is making it difficult for Constantine to even try getting a look.
Fortunately it seems he'll not have to wait long before getting a much better idea of what Bruce is planning. He's already rising the moment the weight is off of him, but with that order, Constantine shifts to the demanded position. Hard not to feel excited like this, ass in the air, cock still hard and aching between his legs, and the slight chill left from Bruce's absence making his skin prickle.
What is keeping Bruce going?
A good question. One he doesn't think he has an answer for. Violence is only a part, and he isn't sure if it's a symptom or a motivating factor, anymore. The simplest truth is that he is too in the habit of it all. He's been this way for so long that he doesn't know how to do anything else. Superman has fundamentally shifted him, but those shifts don't go as far as his sex life.
Imagine if they did. Sorry, I'm vanilla now because an alien was nice to me.
Christ.
Bruce chucks the tangle of straps beneath the other man and straightens his spine out, aligning his head, his shoulders. Holding him with a palm flat in the center of his chest for a moment, pressing up, almost like he's trying to lift him, but really just seeing what it makes his shoulderblades do as he jams a thumb under one on his back. People who do this all have their own tricks and quirks. One of Bruce's is perfectly precise physical arrangement. Less risk of injury means prolonged activity, increased recovery time. And more security felt, in the midst of it.
So. He goes about getting a harness on him, folding things over, wrapping them around, snug and correct. As he works his own erection pushes against John's hip, and after he gets the main shape done, he tugs on the cross-section over his ribcage with one hand and gropes over his ass with the other. Ranking nails over his skin, dragging his touch lower to press up behind his balls, too firm to be teasing, but too slow to get anywhere.
He pinches him at the sensitive juncture of groin and thigh. Hard. Cheeky smack to one globe of bum after.
"What keeps you going?"
Pushing him down now, ass still up, face on the mattress.
A good question. One he doesn't think he has an answer for. Violence is only a part, and he isn't sure if it's a symptom or a motivating factor, anymore. The simplest truth is that he is too in the habit of it all. He's been this way for so long that he doesn't know how to do anything else. Superman has fundamentally shifted him, but those shifts don't go as far as his sex life.
Imagine if they did. Sorry, I'm vanilla now because an alien was nice to me.
Christ.
Bruce chucks the tangle of straps beneath the other man and straightens his spine out, aligning his head, his shoulders. Holding him with a palm flat in the center of his chest for a moment, pressing up, almost like he's trying to lift him, but really just seeing what it makes his shoulderblades do as he jams a thumb under one on his back. People who do this all have their own tricks and quirks. One of Bruce's is perfectly precise physical arrangement. Less risk of injury means prolonged activity, increased recovery time. And more security felt, in the midst of it.
So. He goes about getting a harness on him, folding things over, wrapping them around, snug and correct. As he works his own erection pushes against John's hip, and after he gets the main shape done, he tugs on the cross-section over his ribcage with one hand and gropes over his ass with the other. Ranking nails over his skin, dragging his touch lower to press up behind his balls, too firm to be teasing, but too slow to get anywhere.
He pinches him at the sensitive juncture of groin and thigh. Hard. Cheeky smack to one globe of bum after.
"What keeps you going?"
Pushing him down now, ass still up, face on the mattress.
What keeps him going? Constantine almost laughs at that, only keeping it to a wry huff to avoid throwing off all the delicate adjustments Bruce is making to his posture and stance. The man is precise and he's learned from past encounters that trying to throw him off often results in an even longer wait for what he desperately wants. Bruce also isn't above restraining him and leaving him to stew either, none of which is what Constantine feels like indulging in tonight.
So he keeps still, letting Bruce move him around with minimal protest, instead favouring a sigh of relief as it finally starts to head in the direction he wants and he's rewarded with the feeling of tightening straps and reassuring touches.
"You know me, sheer bloody-mindedness." He hisses, whole body twitching as Bruce drags nails over still sensitive skin and then manages to follow it up with just enough contact to be nowhere near enough.
Another crisp thwack, and he unbalances enough for Bruce to push him firmly into the mattress and Constantine can't help but feel that Bruce can see through his answer just as easily as he can likely see how hard he's gotten from this treatment.
"Fuck, alright! Bloody tease." Even positioned as he is, Constantine rocks back as much as he can, seeking more contact. "I keep going because maybe one day, I'll be able to make right for everything I've done and failed to do. Or at least I'll die trying and then get what's coming for me.
"Now will you stop mucking about and start fucking me already?"
So he keeps still, letting Bruce move him around with minimal protest, instead favouring a sigh of relief as it finally starts to head in the direction he wants and he's rewarded with the feeling of tightening straps and reassuring touches.
"You know me, sheer bloody-mindedness." He hisses, whole body twitching as Bruce drags nails over still sensitive skin and then manages to follow it up with just enough contact to be nowhere near enough.
Another crisp thwack, and he unbalances enough for Bruce to push him firmly into the mattress and Constantine can't help but feel that Bruce can see through his answer just as easily as he can likely see how hard he's gotten from this treatment.
"Fuck, alright! Bloody tease." Even positioned as he is, Constantine rocks back as much as he can, seeking more contact. "I keep going because maybe one day, I'll be able to make right for everything I've done and failed to do. Or at least I'll die trying and then get what's coming for me.
"Now will you stop mucking about and start fucking me already?"
Bruce smacks his ass twice in rapid succession, hard enough to really hurt and shove him forward. He keeps his other hand at his shoulder, preventing him from wobbling or collapsing. Grabs one asscheek and digs his nails in, holding him there, other hand circling the base of his neck. Caged in.
"No."
You're too wound up but not on edge, he might say, if Constantine hadn't rejected safewords wholesale. Do you want to get off right away and keep going? Will it help settle you?
But that isn't what happened, and so, it isn't what's happening.
Instead, Bruce hits him a few more times, lower on his thighs to spread out the bite and burn of impact, skating his touch up to the core of him and stroking roughly over the soft skin behind the root of his cock. But no further. Keeping him pinned heavily all the while - until he shifts up, leans over him to snag his opposite arm. The binding isn't finished, and he gets to work straightening his shoulders again and strapping his arms behind his back. He doesn't linger overmuch, but there's still a determined care to how he moves him; inescapable, laser-like attention. He runs his fingers hard and punishing over a meridian line from collarbone to wrist: lung lines. John won't notice. It won't help.
He finishes with the other man's forearms tucked parallel together and snug against John's body, one hand against each of his own elbows. Bruce grabs the rest of what he'd dragged up from the drawer, and tosses a ball gag towards the end of the bed like a threat. For now, it's merely left there.
Bruce moves. Fully behind him, erection brushing against his abused ass, like maybe he is actually going to fuck him, despite that No. But then he's getting a grip in the fulcrum of the custom harness and up the other man goes, back against Bruce's chest.
"No."
You're too wound up but not on edge, he might say, if Constantine hadn't rejected safewords wholesale. Do you want to get off right away and keep going? Will it help settle you?
But that isn't what happened, and so, it isn't what's happening.
Instead, Bruce hits him a few more times, lower on his thighs to spread out the bite and burn of impact, skating his touch up to the core of him and stroking roughly over the soft skin behind the root of his cock. But no further. Keeping him pinned heavily all the while - until he shifts up, leans over him to snag his opposite arm. The binding isn't finished, and he gets to work straightening his shoulders again and strapping his arms behind his back. He doesn't linger overmuch, but there's still a determined care to how he moves him; inescapable, laser-like attention. He runs his fingers hard and punishing over a meridian line from collarbone to wrist: lung lines. John won't notice. It won't help.
He finishes with the other man's forearms tucked parallel together and snug against John's body, one hand against each of his own elbows. Bruce grabs the rest of what he'd dragged up from the drawer, and tosses a ball gag towards the end of the bed like a threat. For now, it's merely left there.
Bruce moves. Fully behind him, erection brushing against his abused ass, like maybe he is actually going to fuck him, despite that No. But then he's getting a grip in the fulcrum of the custom harness and up the other man goes, back against Bruce's chest.
A series of curses leave him, all manner of nasty remarks about Bruce's parentage, what he'd do to the man given the chance, and a few threats in other languages (not that it would stop Bruce from understanding; the man was startlingly well educated in that respect). All things that they know he likely wouldn't deliver on even if he were given the opportunity at some point, but signs that he's starting to lose the focus to be more precise in his remarks. It's worse because he knows exactly why Bruce is doing this. Yes, Constantine is being a bastard and pushing back and complaining all the while, but he knows that what he's really here for, what Bruce knows that he's here for, is to be completely undone. And no amount of whining is going to get him what he wants before then.
It still doesn't stop him from cursing again as Bruce swats him again and again, still managing to avoid hitting the same place too often, spreading heat and redness over his ass and thighs only to sooth again with calloused fingers over more sensitive areas. Constantine exhales with a groan, trying in vain to get more contact where his cock feels heavy and swollen with need. He is frustratingly left untouched, Bruce instead focusing on getting his arms properly bound behind him. And despite his complaints, privately he can admit that it does it for him, being restrained like this. The harness digs in just enough to keep him in place and offer that sense of being held tight, but not enough to cause injury or damage later that might put a damper on the other plans for the evening.
It also clearly has more than enough spots for him to be grabbed and moved around, he'd wager even anchored somewhere if it took Bruce's fancy. Kinky bastard.
With what he hopes is the last strap in place, Constantine snorts at the gag and the implied threat it holds. "What, can't keep me quiet enough on your own? Here I thought you had the skill to fuck a man sensele--"
It turns into a yelp as he's yanked back, hard up against Bruce's chest, throbbing ass pressed back against the other man's cock just enough to remind him that it's there and just as hard as Constantine himself is. He grins, lolling his head back against Bruce's shoulder and arching his back to try and grind against him despite the precious little motion available to him.
"That's more like it."
It still doesn't stop him from cursing again as Bruce swats him again and again, still managing to avoid hitting the same place too often, spreading heat and redness over his ass and thighs only to sooth again with calloused fingers over more sensitive areas. Constantine exhales with a groan, trying in vain to get more contact where his cock feels heavy and swollen with need. He is frustratingly left untouched, Bruce instead focusing on getting his arms properly bound behind him. And despite his complaints, privately he can admit that it does it for him, being restrained like this. The harness digs in just enough to keep him in place and offer that sense of being held tight, but not enough to cause injury or damage later that might put a damper on the other plans for the evening.
It also clearly has more than enough spots for him to be grabbed and moved around, he'd wager even anchored somewhere if it took Bruce's fancy. Kinky bastard.
With what he hopes is the last strap in place, Constantine snorts at the gag and the implied threat it holds. "What, can't keep me quiet enough on your own? Here I thought you had the skill to fuck a man sensele--"
It turns into a yelp as he's yanked back, hard up against Bruce's chest, throbbing ass pressed back against the other man's cock just enough to remind him that it's there and just as hard as Constantine himself is. He grins, lolling his head back against Bruce's shoulder and arching his back to try and grind against him despite the precious little motion available to him.
"That's more like it."
Parent insults are always cute. His saintly, dead parents. It no longer takes Bruce out of anything, but once in a while, just for fun: I remember sitting in the police station, scuffing something off my shoe because I was looking down, anything to not look at any of the cops around me, and I realized it was my mother's dried brain matter.
You know, sexy.
Bruce maintains upright posture, letting Constantine press into him but not actively taking any of his weight. He's got something going on with the hand not securing him, but he keeps it out of view.
"What do you think is stronger?" Bruce hitches him back even closer, rocks his hips forward so that his cock slides into the cleft of his ass. He's not as hard as he could be, but holding steady nevertheless. Hot and firm against impact-reddened skin. "Failure or stubbornness?"
A question for them both.
Once his dick is somewhere comfortable, he tugs John back, leaning just enough to take his weight. He trails his hand over his front, bypasses his cock, bring a smack down onto the outside of his thigh. His hip. Gets in close, so the small shockwaves will reach the nerves spreading into his groin. Keeps it up for a while, until a new sensation breaks in: a dull pinch at one nipple. Then the other. Clothespins. Plain wooden ones with a metal spring like you get in a 50 pack at the grocery store; there's no need for anything gimmicky or 'stronger', the longer these things stay on, the more they'll hurt, period. Bruce flicks one, hums in consideration. Brings both hands down over his hips and below. Still not touching the magician's cock.
"Aching for it," he observes. "Can you feel yourself leaking?"
You know, sexy.
Bruce maintains upright posture, letting Constantine press into him but not actively taking any of his weight. He's got something going on with the hand not securing him, but he keeps it out of view.
"What do you think is stronger?" Bruce hitches him back even closer, rocks his hips forward so that his cock slides into the cleft of his ass. He's not as hard as he could be, but holding steady nevertheless. Hot and firm against impact-reddened skin. "Failure or stubbornness?"
A question for them both.
Once his dick is somewhere comfortable, he tugs John back, leaning just enough to take his weight. He trails his hand over his front, bypasses his cock, bring a smack down onto the outside of his thigh. His hip. Gets in close, so the small shockwaves will reach the nerves spreading into his groin. Keeps it up for a while, until a new sensation breaks in: a dull pinch at one nipple. Then the other. Clothespins. Plain wooden ones with a metal spring like you get in a 50 pack at the grocery store; there's no need for anything gimmicky or 'stronger', the longer these things stay on, the more they'll hurt, period. Bruce flicks one, hums in consideration. Brings both hands down over his hips and below. Still not touching the magician's cock.
"Aching for it," he observes. "Can you feel yourself leaking?"
"Hand in hand, aren't they? Failed once, stubborn not to fail again. All tangled up in each other." He can feel Bruce's cock against the sensitive, stinging flesh of his ass, frustratingly present but failing to offer much more than that. Even his hands aren't giving him a inch of relief, carefully avoiding where Constantine is starting to desperately want some contact or friction, making it apparent that one part of getting him up like this is likely to avoid any attempts to just rub one out against the bed. Bastard.
He's running out of focus to offer many more retorts to the treatment; the stinging blows bring that tingling heat around to his thighs and hips, have his cock twitching with each blow and a hiss leaving his lips as the smarting skin is left to the air. With his head tipped back and eyes closed, Constantine's focus is entirely on that area of his body, so much so that he jerks as the attention suddenly shifts higher.
"Fuck-!" Trussed up with clothes pegs on his bloody nipples, Bruce's hands smoothing over aching skin... little wonder he's starting to struggle with coherency. Even cracking open an eye to look down at himself doesn't help, seeing his own erection framed by Bruce's hands is something he will definitely keep in mind for later times.
"Christ, Bruce... Come on, mate. Help a man out, will you?" He's fairly certain that if he pleaded, Bruce will give him what he asks for, but never let it be said that Constantine starts pleading easily.
He's running out of focus to offer many more retorts to the treatment; the stinging blows bring that tingling heat around to his thighs and hips, have his cock twitching with each blow and a hiss leaving his lips as the smarting skin is left to the air. With his head tipped back and eyes closed, Constantine's focus is entirely on that area of his body, so much so that he jerks as the attention suddenly shifts higher.
"Fuck-!" Trussed up with clothes pegs on his bloody nipples, Bruce's hands smoothing over aching skin... little wonder he's starting to struggle with coherency. Even cracking open an eye to look down at himself doesn't help, seeing his own erection framed by Bruce's hands is something he will definitely keep in mind for later times.
"Christ, Bruce... Come on, mate. Help a man out, will you?" He's fairly certain that if he pleaded, Bruce will give him what he asks for, but never let it be said that Constantine starts pleading easily.
"Help you with what?"
Bruce smacks the side of his thigh with one hand, the other coming dangerously close to the base of his cock. But it vanishes before contact can be made, and Bruce leans back to do something-or-other. Really taking advantage of the fact that he can deadlift several times more than his own body weight, letting Constantine rest against him in such a potentially unstable position.
Who wanted more clothespins. Was it John. Oh good. Because there are more being applied, Bruce pinching up lines of skin on his thighs and clipping the wooden things on.
"Sometimes I can't tell if I'm trying to correct a failure, or if I'm trying to forget," he admits, his voice quiet beneath ragged breathing and the echo of complaints. One pin gets neatly clipped below his belly button. And then Bruce wraps his hand around his cock, gives him a slow, loose stroke. Ends with his fingers gently circling the tip of him.
"None of us can go back."
Not even in time. They're still there, themselves.
Bruce smacks the side of his thigh with one hand, the other coming dangerously close to the base of his cock. But it vanishes before contact can be made, and Bruce leans back to do something-or-other. Really taking advantage of the fact that he can deadlift several times more than his own body weight, letting Constantine rest against him in such a potentially unstable position.
Who wanted more clothespins. Was it John. Oh good. Because there are more being applied, Bruce pinching up lines of skin on his thighs and clipping the wooden things on.
"Sometimes I can't tell if I'm trying to correct a failure, or if I'm trying to forget," he admits, his voice quiet beneath ragged breathing and the echo of complaints. One pin gets neatly clipped below his belly button. And then Bruce wraps his hand around his cock, gives him a slow, loose stroke. Ends with his fingers gently circling the tip of him.
"None of us can go back."
Not even in time. They're still there, themselves.
"You know what you bloody--"
More pegs, Christ. He's not sure how Bruce is managing to fit them on at this point; Constantine's entire body is starting to feel strung tight with need and as though there's no space in him for anything more beyond that. There's a keening whine in the air when Bruce's hand grazes against the base of his cock for the barest moment, and he almost misses that he's the one making the sound.
"Please, Bruce-" he knows that the man is talking, but while he can make out the words, they're almost impossible to focus on for the moment "-please touch me."
The relief when that hand wraps around him is almost painful, and John is fairly certain that he sobs and only avoids coming immediately through sheer willpower alone.
More pegs, Christ. He's not sure how Bruce is managing to fit them on at this point; Constantine's entire body is starting to feel strung tight with need and as though there's no space in him for anything more beyond that. There's a keening whine in the air when Bruce's hand grazes against the base of his cock for the barest moment, and he almost misses that he's the one making the sound.
"Please, Bruce-" he knows that the man is talking, but while he can make out the words, they're almost impossible to focus on for the moment "-please touch me."
The relief when that hand wraps around him is almost painful, and John is fairly certain that he sobs and only avoids coming immediately through sheer willpower alone.
Bruce hitches his hips forward, grinds his own cock against John's ass, holding him hard at one hip. His other hand stays in that loose grip, moving up to let his open palm rub just over the tip of him, knowing that if he gives him anything more significant he'll come - and knowing that this is completely crazymaking, too. He leans his head back, takes and releases a deep breath, centering himself. Not unaffected.
When he pulls himself back, he runs his fingers lightly up the magician's stiff cock, from the head down to the base and up his abs, to his chest. Higher, until he can wrap his broad hand around his throat. Bruce presses his face against John's, nuzzling close and almost affectionate, while he squeezes his windpipe. Controlled, careful. Lets him get a breath, constricts as he's exhaling. Again.
Holds there, for a long moment.
Thinking about nothing.
When he removes his hand, he yanks off one pin from his thigh at the same time.
When he pulls himself back, he runs his fingers lightly up the magician's stiff cock, from the head down to the base and up his abs, to his chest. Higher, until he can wrap his broad hand around his throat. Bruce presses his face against John's, nuzzling close and almost affectionate, while he squeezes his windpipe. Controlled, careful. Lets him get a breath, constricts as he's exhaling. Again.
Holds there, for a long moment.
Thinking about nothing.
When he removes his hand, he yanks off one pin from his thigh at the same time.
Of course there's no relief that easily. He dug this blasted pit on his own, after all, and Bruce has always been one to make sure that he reaps what he sows. Especially when it comes to his mouth writing cheques his ass can't deliver. Despite how much John arches, chasing that touch, he gets no more than the fleeting brush of a calloused palm over the wet head of his cock and the sound of Bruce breathing to control himself. That the play is having an effect on the other man isn't as much of a reward as he'd think; if anything it's all the more frustrating to know that Bruce wants this just as badly but is pushing through.
Those blasted fingers trail over him again, teasingly light, and John groans as Bruce's hand comes to rest at his throat. He can feel his pulse thumping against Bruce's fingers, the rub against his Adam's apple as he swallows. You'd think with the number of times someone has tried to choke the life out of him in the past, this wouldn't be as much of a turn on as it is. But there's the pressure of Bruce's grip pressing down, long enough that his body tenses to try and fight for what oxygen he needs, muscles straining against the straps, then release and relief as he sucks in a breath. Only for it all to start over again. Once, twice. Enough for their to be a rhythm that he's expecting the third and taken by surprise as the peg is pulled away sharply.
"Jesus, fuck! Christ, Bruce!" It's not a protest exactly, nor any sign that the other man should stop despite how put upon John might sound. The fact he still has words at all is sign there's still ways to go.
This time he's bracing for the same treatment, although suspects that Bruce is going to be anything but predictable.
Those blasted fingers trail over him again, teasingly light, and John groans as Bruce's hand comes to rest at his throat. He can feel his pulse thumping against Bruce's fingers, the rub against his Adam's apple as he swallows. You'd think with the number of times someone has tried to choke the life out of him in the past, this wouldn't be as much of a turn on as it is. But there's the pressure of Bruce's grip pressing down, long enough that his body tenses to try and fight for what oxygen he needs, muscles straining against the straps, then release and relief as he sucks in a breath. Only for it all to start over again. Once, twice. Enough for their to be a rhythm that he's expecting the third and taken by surprise as the peg is pulled away sharply.
"Jesus, fuck! Christ, Bruce!" It's not a protest exactly, nor any sign that the other man should stop despite how put upon John might sound. The fact he still has words at all is sign there's still ways to go.
This time he's bracing for the same treatment, although suspects that Bruce is going to be anything but predictable.
[[from here]]
[Bloody hell, of course he takes one evening to try and enjoy himself and the Doctor ends up abducted by… Constantine squints at the image. Oh. That’s not good.]
You’re not going to be able to get that open from inside. It’s a seal for a trap used by the True Followers of Time’s End. Designed to trap their messiah, who they believe to be an undying entity that walks the Earth for eternity, wearing many faces but present for all of humanities critical moments.
[As he types, Constantine is on his way out of the pub, possible pleasant evenings forgotten. He shouldn’t have left the handsome idiot alone, he practically hands himself out to be abducted at the best of times.]
They believe that they need to trap this entity and siphon power from them in order to break humanity free and bring on an age of enlightenment and freedom from the bounds of time.
[So yes, probably just a little more concerned, Doctor.]
[Bloody hell, of course he takes one evening to try and enjoy himself and the Doctor ends up abducted by… Constantine squints at the image. Oh. That’s not good.]
You’re not going to be able to get that open from inside. It’s a seal for a trap used by the True Followers of Time’s End. Designed to trap their messiah, who they believe to be an undying entity that walks the Earth for eternity, wearing many faces but present for all of humanities critical moments.
[As he types, Constantine is on his way out of the pub, possible pleasant evenings forgotten. He shouldn’t have left the handsome idiot alone, he practically hands himself out to be abducted at the best of times.]
They believe that they need to trap this entity and siphon power from them in order to break humanity free and bring on an age of enlightenment and freedom from the bounds of time.
[So yes, probably just a little more concerned, Doctor.]
Edited 2021-08-02 12:36 (UTC)
[[from here]]
[There’s been a few instances in the past where Constantine has been grateful for the speed at which the Medicine Seller can move, and learned quickly to let the strange man take his time otherwise. For one thing, his strange companion usually had very good instincts about when they needed to move quickly and when they didn’t, and for another… Constantine couldn’t prove anything but he was fairly certain that the Medicine Seller deliberately moved slower when the demonologist was impatient. There’s probably a lesson in patience in that, but Constantine has never been one for that sort of learning.
As soon as the bandages are secured, he starts pushing himself up, wincing through the pain but soldiering on. So long as his leg can support him, he’ll walk.]
Right as rain, luv. Never better.
[He tugs out a pendant from his shirt and grips it by the chain, looking around until he spots a glob of spittle from the creature that attacked him and swipes the medallion through it. With a low murmur, Constantine completes the incantation and a beam of light emanates from the medallion.]
Now, lets see about finding out who’s behind all of this, shall we?
[There’s been a few instances in the past where Constantine has been grateful for the speed at which the Medicine Seller can move, and learned quickly to let the strange man take his time otherwise. For one thing, his strange companion usually had very good instincts about when they needed to move quickly and when they didn’t, and for another… Constantine couldn’t prove anything but he was fairly certain that the Medicine Seller deliberately moved slower when the demonologist was impatient. There’s probably a lesson in patience in that, but Constantine has never been one for that sort of learning.
As soon as the bandages are secured, he starts pushing himself up, wincing through the pain but soldiering on. So long as his leg can support him, he’ll walk.]
Right as rain, luv. Never better.
[He tugs out a pendant from his shirt and grips it by the chain, looking around until he spots a glob of spittle from the creature that attacked him and swipes the medallion through it. With a low murmur, Constantine completes the incantation and a beam of light emanates from the medallion.]
Now, lets see about finding out who’s behind all of this, shall we?
"Relax," sounds like a command. It also sounds ominous. As in, Relax, or you're not going to get what you want.
Bruce digs his fingers into a pressure point near Constantine's shoulder, high on his chest, jolting nerves that span over his pecs and ribcage. Shaking out tension. It'll hurt, like schoolyard kids punching each other in the arm to deaden sensation, but not go numb. Bruce rubs over it a moment later, encouraging bloodflow. The bindings around him are too well-placed to interfere with circulation, but Bruce can always do it manually. Like so.
He scrapes his hands down, pressing around where the other man's skin is pinned, then back up. One hand loosely around his throat again, but this time he waits.
Bruce nudges his face up against John's, holds him against his chest, breathes. Waits there, doing nothing else. Shakes him a little to get him to draw breath in deep, and let it out. Come on.
Bruce digs his fingers into a pressure point near Constantine's shoulder, high on his chest, jolting nerves that span over his pecs and ribcage. Shaking out tension. It'll hurt, like schoolyard kids punching each other in the arm to deaden sensation, but not go numb. Bruce rubs over it a moment later, encouraging bloodflow. The bindings around him are too well-placed to interfere with circulation, but Bruce can always do it manually. Like so.
He scrapes his hands down, pressing around where the other man's skin is pinned, then back up. One hand loosely around his throat again, but this time he waits.
Bruce nudges his face up against John's, holds him against his chest, breathes. Waits there, doing nothing else. Shakes him a little to get him to draw breath in deep, and let it out. Come on.
Relax, he says, like he hasn't deliberately been trying to get John's dick hard to the point that he could conceivably set records with it. He jerks, curses again as Bruce hits yet another pressure point, this time sending uncomfortable needling sensations across his torso, but tries to do as directed. That voice doesn't brook much argument and where he might usually protest, John just exhales and relaxes back against Bruce. The man is packed with muscle and tall enough that there's no real concern about overbalancing them both, and despite the ache in his cock he does try to breathe.
Tension slowly unwinds in his gut and he feels more himself, more John Constantine again instead of strung out desperation. Enough to appreciate, despite the faint frustration, that he was very much going to end up wrecked by the end of the night. What he'd wanted, even if it was also what he'd complain about.
"Alright," he grumbles after another deep breath. In and out, like Bruce wanted. The only thing that was going in and out for the time being. "Don't tell me that you've picked now to have a bleeding cuddle."
Tension slowly unwinds in his gut and he feels more himself, more John Constantine again instead of strung out desperation. Enough to appreciate, despite the faint frustration, that he was very much going to end up wrecked by the end of the night. What he'd wanted, even if it was also what he'd complain about.
"Alright," he grumbles after another deep breath. In and out, like Bruce wanted. The only thing that was going in and out for the time being. "Don't tell me that you've picked now to have a bleeding cuddle."
[ He hums thoughtfully, pacing the room for probably the hundredth time. ]
Break humanity free... of course.
[ He works much better thinking out loud than he does through text, which is why a second later John gets a call from him-- and without much in the way of a 'How do you do?' ] The distress signal I picked up. I had picked it up in the time vortex, originating from somewhere near this time-space coordinate. I thought it was another Time Lord, stranded here. Probably should have expected something like this... unfortunately I was a little more prepared for your standard alien kidnapping, not my own personal occultist fan club.
[ It doesn't take too many guesses to figure out what he probably doesn't want to still be around when they decide to siphon power from him. Whatever it is they have in store can't be too pretty. ]
The question is: how did they manage to broadcast that signal? Because from everything I've gathered from our encounters indicates that the occult is terrestrial in nature. I've never seen it be able to have this sort of reach before...
[ The question should actually be: where am I and how do I get out of this. But the Doctor's mind is nothing if not fixated. ]
Break humanity free... of course.
[ He works much better thinking out loud than he does through text, which is why a second later John gets a call from him-- and without much in the way of a 'How do you do?' ] The distress signal I picked up. I had picked it up in the time vortex, originating from somewhere near this time-space coordinate. I thought it was another Time Lord, stranded here. Probably should have expected something like this... unfortunately I was a little more prepared for your standard alien kidnapping, not my own personal occultist fan club.
[ It doesn't take too many guesses to figure out what he probably doesn't want to still be around when they decide to siphon power from him. Whatever it is they have in store can't be too pretty. ]
The question is: how did they manage to broadcast that signal? Because from everything I've gathered from our encounters indicates that the occult is terrestrial in nature. I've never seen it be able to have this sort of reach before...
[ The question should actually be: where am I and how do I get out of this. But the Doctor's mind is nothing if not fixated. ]
[ This gets a skeptical narrowing of the eyes that suggest the Medicine Seller rather disagrees about Constantine being right as anything after a hell hound bit a chunk out his leg, but as a patch job, it will have to do. Packing away is supplies, he hefts the medicine box onto his back.
The light from the medallion does intrigue him enough to peer in for a closer look, despite the reek of dog spit. ]
How useful. Is this one of your own making...?
The light from the medallion does intrigue him enough to peer in for a closer look, despite the reek of dog spit. ]
How useful. Is this one of your own making...?
[It's probably a good thing that this exchange is via voice and the Doctor can't see him rolling his eyes as, of course the Time Lord is more interested in the puzzle than his own impending agonising death.
This is why he put one of the nails of St. Padua in the Doctor's coat, trusting that he carries so much in there he won't really notice. Never knew when he'd have to track the blasted man down.
Constantine digs out his own nail and balances it in the palm of his hand for a moment before starting off in the direction it indicates.]
Yeah, well. Magic is starting to get stronger these days. If they've had any contact with someone like you before, could be that they've found a way to boost it to reach where it needs to.
How long have you been there? [It'd give him an idea of what kind of time frame he might have before things got a lot more serious.]
This is why he put one of the nails of St. Padua in the Doctor's coat, trusting that he carries so much in there he won't really notice. Never knew when he'd have to track the blasted man down.
Constantine digs out his own nail and balances it in the palm of his hand for a moment before starting off in the direction it indicates.]
Yeah, well. Magic is starting to get stronger these days. If they've had any contact with someone like you before, could be that they've found a way to boost it to reach where it needs to.
How long have you been there? [It'd give him an idea of what kind of time frame he might have before things got a lot more serious.]
It's been twelve hours and forty-two minutes since they sedated me. I woke up somewhere around the twelve-hour mark. Which really is remarkable, I don't think I've slept more than three hours at once in years. Usually just more of a quick doze every few months or so. Keeping me under that long without forcing me to regenerate? Whoever is behind this cult, they know what they're doing, I'll give them that much.
[ The talking helps give him an outlet for all that nervous energy bouncing around inside of him. He's bristling with equal parts fascination at getting tangled up in John's occult world again, and anticipation of the danger that's to come. He knows that he's likely running out of time. Cults had a tendency to be completely devoted not just to their cause, but to pomp and circumstance. He was beginning to get a sinking feeling of why they would have kept him locked down here for so long. Thirteen hours, thirteen regenerations.
Hopefully he was wrong and they'd just forgotten about him down there. Not likely, but it never hurt to hope. ]
John, not to rush you, but how long do you think it'll take you to track me down?
[ The talking helps give him an outlet for all that nervous energy bouncing around inside of him. He's bristling with equal parts fascination at getting tangled up in John's occult world again, and anticipation of the danger that's to come. He knows that he's likely running out of time. Cults had a tendency to be completely devoted not just to their cause, but to pomp and circumstance. He was beginning to get a sinking feeling of why they would have kept him locked down here for so long. Thirteen hours, thirteen regenerations.
Hopefully he was wrong and they'd just forgotten about him down there. Not likely, but it never hurt to hope. ]
John, not to rush you, but how long do you think it'll take you to track me down?
( He trades Constantine's look for an expression of bafflement, charged at the edges with open disgust. No. and, also, What the fuck. Softly clearing his throat, whatever he's about to say aloud goes abruptly unsaid, when the freaky owl-y demon opens its beak and the cloying, sing-song voice of Obadiah Stane pours right on out: )
Funny, Exorcist. They say the same thing about you.
( The demon ruffles its feathers in a weirdly human fashion, the way a man might roll his shoulders to adjust the lines of a tailored suit. It shifts, as if it would ignore Constantine entirely if it could, focused on Stark's suddenly ashen features. )
Heya, Tony. Long time no see.
Funny, Exorcist. They say the same thing about you.
( The demon ruffles its feathers in a weirdly human fashion, the way a man might roll his shoulders to adjust the lines of a tailored suit. It shifts, as if it would ignore Constantine entirely if it could, focused on Stark's suddenly ashen features. )
Heya, Tony. Long time no see.
You've been awake for forty-two minutes and you're just telling me now?!
[He was going to kill him. He was going to rescue the Doctor, and then he was going to kill him. Maybe he'd even learn the sodding ritual himself and end him with that.]
Well I could have been there maybe a half hour ago, if you'd bothered to contact me when you first woke up!
[He's going to have to steal a car, isn't he. He has no idea how far away the Doctor is being held, just a direction, but he doubts he's going to be lucky enough for it to be around the sodding corner. Well, what's another warrant, right?
He keeps the phone line open, not wanting to lose contact if there's so little time left, and there's the sound of a crash, someone yelling, and a car starting.]
Keep your fancy coat on, I'm on my way.
[He was going to kill him. He was going to rescue the Doctor, and then he was going to kill him. Maybe he'd even learn the sodding ritual himself and end him with that.]
Well I could have been there maybe a half hour ago, if you'd bothered to contact me when you first woke up!
[He's going to have to steal a car, isn't he. He has no idea how far away the Doctor is being held, just a direction, but he doubts he's going to be lucky enough for it to be around the sodding corner. Well, what's another warrant, right?
He keeps the phone line open, not wanting to lose contact if there's so little time left, and there's the sound of a crash, someone yelling, and a car starting.]
Keep your fancy coat on, I'm on my way.
You know me, bit of this and that lifted from various places. [A magpie of magic, he'd been called before. Like that was something to be ashamed of, learning as much about everything he could get his hands on.
The leg hurts like a bitch when he puts his weight on it, but it holds without too much limping and Constantine starts off, following the beam of light.]
Can't be too far from the strength. Must not have had time to plan it if they're close by for the spell either.
[Which could be good or bad; an amateur could end up being unpredictable and dangerous, especially if they ended up trying to grasp power that they weren't ready to handle.]
The leg hurts like a bitch when he puts his weight on it, but it holds without too much limping and Constantine starts off, following the beam of light.]
Can't be too far from the strength. Must not have had time to plan it if they're close by for the spell either.
[Which could be good or bad; an amateur could end up being unpredictable and dangerous, especially if they ended up trying to grasp power that they weren't ready to handle.]
I wasn't planning on tell you at all, if I could help it. As far as I was concerned, what I was investigating was extra-terrestrial in nature. If I remember correctly, that's well outside your usual range of expertise.
[ There's an edge of annoyance to his tone. He doesn't like being told off by hiscompanions-- friends, most especially when he actually deserves it. Maybe if he manages to get through this he'll have the chance to be contrite about the entire thing, but right now he needed to come up with plans B through P, in case plan A (John arriving in time) doesn't pan out.
However, the annoyance doesn't hold up long when he hears that crash-- likely John breaking into someone's car. ]
Though, I suppose I could have phoned you a little sooner. Maybe once I'd seen that sigil on the door.
[ He's already spent forty-two minutes exhausting all other possible avenues of escape from the cellar, there wasn't much else left to do at this point other than wait for his hosts to arrive. ]
John, don't worry if you can't get here in time, I'll manage to think of something. [ Though so far plans B-P were starting to look a little like Plan B: Think of something. Plan C: Think of something else. Plan D: Do something different. Plan E: Demand to die naked. Plan F: Think of something better... and so on. Though, he'd already tried Plan E before. Can't say it worked out any better for him the first time, but you never know with cults. ]
[ There's an edge of annoyance to his tone. He doesn't like being told off by his
However, the annoyance doesn't hold up long when he hears that crash-- likely John breaking into someone's car. ]
Though, I suppose I could have phoned you a little sooner. Maybe once I'd seen that sigil on the door.
[ He's already spent forty-two minutes exhausting all other possible avenues of escape from the cellar, there wasn't much else left to do at this point other than wait for his hosts to arrive. ]
John, don't worry if you can't get here in time, I'll manage to think of something. [ Though so far plans B-P were starting to look a little like Plan B: Think of something. Plan C: Think of something else. Plan D: Do something different. Plan E: Demand to die naked. Plan F: Think of something better... and so on. Though, he'd already tried Plan E before. Can't say it worked out any better for him the first time, but you never know with cults. ]
[ Not entirely different, then, from the Medicine Seller's own eclectic mish-mash of tools, practices and philosophies. If it works, he's hardly one to snub it. Rigorous orthodoxy to any one method is for those not actually out in the field - here is not a place one can afford to be inflexible. That's how you wind up dead. ]
A handy tool indeed.
[ The limping is cause concern, and the Medicine Seller moves gradually closer into his companion's sphere- a quiet, subtle offer to be a crutch, if Constantine's pride can bear it.
Fortunately their destination isn't far. An old, abandoned garage looms into view. It's not particularly intimidating as abandoned places go - its squat, rectangular, sprayed with graffiti and coated in a good decade and a half's worth of grime. Windows that aren't broken are boarded shut, and one of rusted overheads is pushed up at an odd angle.
Almost certainly the operation of amateurs in over their head. ]
A handy tool indeed.
[ The limping is cause concern, and the Medicine Seller moves gradually closer into his companion's sphere- a quiet, subtle offer to be a crutch, if Constantine's pride can bear it.
Fortunately their destination isn't far. An old, abandoned garage looms into view. It's not particularly intimidating as abandoned places go - its squat, rectangular, sprayed with graffiti and coated in a good decade and a half's worth of grime. Windows that aren't broken are boarded shut, and one of rusted overheads is pushed up at an odd angle.
Almost certainly the operation of amateurs in over their head. ]
Yeah, well, I've had to adjust my expertise since I'm travelling in new circles. Always willing to learn new skills, that's me.
[Including skills on the go, like driving while also keeping an eye on where the nail was pointed and trying to avoid too much attention.]
What's your plan, then? Is it your usual one, talk at them while they torture you and hope something presents itself? Bollocks to that. Do you remember anything about where you were before they took you? Or anything you can see that might give a location?
[Including skills on the go, like driving while also keeping an eye on where the nail was pointed and trying to avoid too much attention.]
What's your plan, then? Is it your usual one, talk at them while they torture you and hope something presents itself? Bollocks to that. Do you remember anything about where you were before they took you? Or anything you can see that might give a location?
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