making war just for fun (for first_rule)

[onebehind]

The good news was, at some point before the end of the week, before hurting Jack, before most of the truly terrible thing he'd done, Dylan had realized he needed help. The bad news was this realization had hit during one of the lows, and he'd decided what he needed wasn't to be fixed, to regain his (mostly) moral high ground, but to sink entirely and stop having moments of conflict and hesitation. He also wanted to be able to keep this power, once the week was out, because really, what fun would the ultimate loss of what little light remained in him be if he was left largely impotent again, at the end of it all, half his magic still missing? What point would there be to finally wanting to throw his weight around here, without concern for who he hurt in the process, if he had no weight to actually throw?

And so he'd gone to one of the darker Agents. Attar, Loki -- take your pick, really. He'd made a deal for a couple of favors at a later date, none of which he had any intention of ever actually fulfilling, and after he'd walked away, he'd spent the rest of the week dealing with the final death throes of his morality, desperate flickers of panic and conscious, before it curled up and died entirely. Now, there was nothing holding him back, he had power overflowing at his fingertips, and all was well. Thankfully, he'd also leveled out to a certain degree, but only a little. He wasn't so hellbent on murdering Jack, now -- now, it seemed more sensible to try and turn him and the other Horsemen, first -- but destroying Teleios? Oh, that was certainly on the agenda.

Maybe he'd find Samuel and Bailey and, after making them suffer for the hurt they'd inflicted on him (maybe he'd force them to hurt themselves as he'd hinted at Daniel might be in store for Jack, his voice still and now forever a thing of power), find whatever little doom they planned to use on the city and make it his own. Maybe he'd just see what trouble he could get up to on his own or with the Horsemen. Maybe -- well, there were so many possibilities, really, and he had so many ideas.

Right now, though? First, he was going to have a drink. A toast to himself and to something actually going right in this hellhole for once.

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[first_rule]

Pleasure that was off the scales quickly turned to that line where pleasure was pain and it was still good and you wanted it to stop all at the same time. He writhed, shivering and twisting though he didn't pull away. Not until Dylan broke fully away.

Gasping and shuddering, still holding tight to Dylan as the other man kissed him. Tongue rolling around his mouth, tasting the blood, imagining he could still taste himself and Dylan's come all at the same time.

Then they were apart and suddenly kind of self conscious and folding his arms over his chest. He shifted from one foot to the other, glancing away and then back to Dylan. He wasn't sure what to think of those words. "Okay? What thing?"

[onebehind]

Dylan let him go when he folded his arms over his chest. As a parting gift, he swiped a finger over the line he had cut into his chest earlier, bitten into earlier, before he'd twisted him into a woman, and backing his words with power, he offered simply, "You should probably heal like I do."

It would sort of put a damper on future fun if Daniel passed out or died of blood loss somewhere throughout the course of the rest of his day.

[first_rule]

Whatever it was that Daniel had been expecting, whatever dismissal he feared, none of it prepared him for what was actually about to happen. The touch made him sigh, eyes nearly closing. Yet then he felt the shift within, body healing the wound at his neck, the one on his chest, even that swelling to his lips.

His eyes opened, wide, staring at Dylan, stunned. "You... Thank you," he managed, not sure what else to say. He wasn't sure what he had expected to happen, but that was Dylan as much as all he had become, and even if it was just so that Daniel could continue to be his meal ticket, as it were, he didn't care. He liked the idea that whatever happened, he'd be okay.

"How long... I mean, is that just for now or will it last and keep healing me?"

[onebehind]

Dylan grunted in lieu of a proper you're welcome, looking up at him briefly as he tucked his cock back into his pants again. He was working at the zipper of his fly when Daniel continued and he paused, glancing over at him again, raking his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully as he considered.

"For now, it's permanent," he decided, another quick push of magic included in those last two words. It wouldn't fix whatever Dylan did to him, wouldn't give him his dick back if he forced that tight, perfect porn star pussy on him again, since that wouldn't register as damage, wouldn't register as wrong and in need of repair, but anything else? He'd be safe from anything else up to and including death, able to heal through it, and that was good on any number of levels.

Now, he could continue to feed on Daniel for however long he kept the vampire shift. Now, he'd be protected from whatever shit this place tried to pull. Now, he couldn't take the easy way out, if he decided this was all too much. He was his, forever -- or at least until he got bored -- unbreakable and unaging.

[first_rule]

Daniel considered pulling the remnants of his shirt about him and then decided, screw it. Unfolding his arms, working hard to pull himself together and not trying to hide it. Chin lifting, arms loose at his side as he stood straighter.

His mind was exhausted, even if he had such healing, and he felt like he was torn between wanting to scream, wanting to curl up, and that need that had him wanting to move in close once more, push himself against Dylan and nonverbal beg for more attention. He somehow managed to hold his ground, staring at the other man.

"Okay then," he said, putting his hand to the side of his neck. "Good to know." And it was kind of good to know given the things that had already happened in this place, even without the things that had happened that day in this room.

"So..." Yep, that was welcome spoken and said a lot. Actually it probably said more than he wanted to say. "Okay, what happens now? Do we just pretend this didn't happen?" And by that, it was obvious, he was asking if that was what Dylan wanted. "I mean, I'd hate to come up and beg to open your fly and have you laugh in my face. Not exactly something I'm into."

His voice held, and he was proud of that. He had said beg, but he didn't feel he was doing so. Yet.

[onebehind]

"Oh, I wasn't planning on letting you go that easy," Dylan answered, glancing up at him again from where he'd moved on to re-buttoning his shirt. A wicked smile followed, making that statement as much threat as it was promise, and then he was returning his attentions to fixing his state of undress. "But I figure we can give it a break before we move on to round three. We both need a shower, I've got a couple of things I need to do, and I really don't wanna break you on the first day."

Never mind the fact that he was very, very interested in seeing how Daniel reacted, once he'd left the room and the weight of all this came crashing down on him. He been forced to shoot him, altered bodily and found himself wanting it, wanting more, seen a taste of how much of a psychopath Dylan had become in the last few hours. He half-expected Daniel to fall apart under the weight of it, and if he did, he wanted to watch. Or try and push him along. Or both.

Maybe he'd hold off on those couple of things he had to do, pull an illusion around himself and stick around and watch. Maybe he'd follow Daniel around the next couple of days, just to test the limits of his power and to push him into madness.

[first_rule]

Those words sent a thrill through Daniel, sexual and eager and delicious all at the same time. Part of himself hated himself for that, loving that it would happen again. He wanted that, wanted more, yet he snorted, giving a roll of his eyes.

"I didn't mean now. I meant in general. You keep changing my life so was curious how much it has changed now," he admitted, which was the truth.

Yet already, even as the temperature of his body cooled, he wasn't sure what to think about this all. He was naked and whole, healed, and yet Dylan had been dead for a moment. Able to rise from it or not, he had died. Died because of Daniel. For a moment as he stared at Dylan, that moment went through his head. Not able to stop himself, the panic of pulling the trigger, and then Dylan laying dead before him. For a moment but...

He shook his head hard, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to clear the image.

"Right. So... Go on then and get a shower. I'm going to try and piece my clothes together so I can at least get to my room. Not willing to give the others the thrill of seeing this magnificent body," he said, smirking, sounding more himself. Shame his gaze didn't quite come back to Dylan like it had been.

[onebehind]

Dylan could read that upset on him and for a moment, he was tempted to try and burn it further into Daniel's mind. He thought better of it, however, if only because it seemed to easy a means of destroying him, and instead simply shrugged. "Their loss."

A beat. "Though, I think I've got a spare shirt and pants upstairs." If Daniel wanted to explain why he was wearing Dylan's clothes to whoever he happened to run into. That had the potential to be as difficult to explain away as the tits, though, assuming he had made him keep them.

[first_rule]

He was fighting hard to hold himself together. He wanted to hold himself together, to not let himself think to hard but he wasn't sure he could keep himself from losing it. He'd had a distraction before but now it was gone, his mind was playing over how this all happened.

There was a small jerk of his lips at that comment about being their loss, and so he couldn't help himself. It felt good, but when he nodded, his gaze caught on something.

"Uhmmm, yeah," he said, not looking at Dylan. He crossed the room, dipping down to pick something up, pressing it to the center of his palm as his hand balled into a fist. It was the bullet that had popped out of Dylan's skull. He left the gun where it was. "Sure. That works. Your clothes that is," he said, turning and looking to Dylan. "Sure. Lead on."

[onebehind]

Daniel stopped for the bullet; Dylan himself followed him in that direction, bending down briefly to pick up the gun. He'd put it back where he'd gotten it from in the first place later. For now, he just tucked it in the waist of his slacks, however stupid that normally would be. He wasn't any more worried about accidentally shooting his balls off than he'd been Daniel shooting him in the head in the first place.

"C'mmon," he said, that done, turning to head for the stairs. He didn't look back to make sure Daniel was following, first because he figured he was and second, well. He could guess what Daniel had picked up and if he turned around now, he'd see the cruel little smirk that had crept onto his face at the idea.

Thankfully, he'd managed to stile it by the time they reached the top of the stairs, and so he chanced a glance back at him then, before gesturing him into the room. "They're over there." A beat. "I'll let you get changed and see you around later?"

[first_rule]

Daniel didn't want to think about the gun. He didn't want to think about where Dylan got it, or why he'd been carrying it with him. Had he sought Daniel out to do all he had that afternoon? Had it been planned rather than something accidental?

Trying not to think about it, he did follow, trailing in Dylan's wake. He stopped just at the top of the stairs, gaze darting to the room, thinking about so much before he could stop himself. Shifting his gaze to Dylan, he nodded. "Sure, that works. Thanks for the clothes," he said. Yep, entirely normal and nothing was going on.

Even if the bile was rising in the back of his throat, and he wanted to scream, or run. Something. Everything. Anything. Instead he just kind of headed for the door. "Sure. Yeah, that works. I can see myself out to normal spaces," he said, glancing at Dylan. He stared at him for a long moment before stepping inside.

Yet once inside he didn't move, fingers tightening around the bullet.

[onebehind]

"I figured," Dylan offered. A moment of pause followed, mostly so he could swallow down another smirk -- no, this wasn't how he imagined his day going, but it had been so worth it -- and then he was sliding out of the room behind him and back down the stairs.

Or so it seemed. He hadn't been kidding about wanting a taste of Daniel's reaction, once he thought he was alone.

[first_rule]

Daniel shifted, leaning back against the wall. He felt weak, sick to his stomach, and he wanted to seek out Dylan already. He wanted to blame the latter on some kind of magic, but he suspected it was less these damned god like powers he had and more Daniel's own hungers and desires.

Except they came with the rest. With being fed on like a fucking human nutrition drink and being turned into a girl, and being forced to kill. Even if he wasn't still dead.

"Maybe he hadn't ever been," he muttered. "Illusions. It could just be an illusion," he said, obviously trying to convince himself. "I could do an illusion like that."

Except one thing.

He lifted the bullet, looking at it. It was crumpled, the head of it split from hitting bone. It showed flecks of blood. Maybe Dylan had gotten a spent bullet. Maybe he had fired at an animal. Some here hunted, after all. Maybe...

Maybe Daniel had shot a man who, maybe an hour later, he had sucked off after being fucked like a groupie at a rock concert.

That was all it took, diving for the waste bin, puking.

[onebehind]

It was interesting that the biggest issue here was, apparently, the fact that he'd made him shoot him. He would have expected something else, despite Daniel demanding he promise not to do that again. The tits, maybe, for how much he'd been against them staying and how much fear he'd shown when they'd first risen from his chest. The cunt, for the same reasons. The tongue. But what held him up was the shooting?

Huh.

Dylan felt oddly good about that, despite the fact that it left Daniel sick. It showed some measure of loyalty. He wouldn't turn on him, no matter what he did, not like that, not even to save his own life if it came to it, and that was good. Everything else, he could work on. Push Daniel towards. Demand.

Satisfied and smiling to himself because of it, he turned, illusion still pulled tight around him so Daniel wouldn't notice, and headed back down the stairs. He'd give him some time now, as promised. Tomorrow was a new day and he already had ideas.