onebehind | making war just for fun (for first

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making war just for fun (for first_rule)

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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Daniel had no idea he was emitting pheromones, though it was all part of it coming together. Dylan wanted him to be monsterous, and he was. In so many ways. Horns and claws, strength, and a hunger he had no idea how to handle. One that made him want to have more, to get as much as he could from Dylan, from others. All sex and the delicious hormones from it.

Hearing he was beautiful, that helped. Like being special. All of it coming together, that helped. What helped more was thick cock sliding into him and leaving him finally feeling full.

It was enough to set other changes in motion. Like those tits coming back. Large, heavy, and still perky as they could be when designed by magic. Made to drive Dylan mad, to crank things up to make him want it more.

There was nothing shakey about how Daniel kissed him back. Hard, arching up into the kiss, pushing to get more. Almost as if he was drinking from Dylan already. Both hands cradled either side of Dylan's face, stroking his cheeks, trying to push him further. Rocking up, matching every thrust with a rock of his body, hiking his legs up higher, heels locking around Dylan's waist.

"Dylan!"

Breaking the kiss, clutching his hands to his shoulders, crying out. "Fuck. Fuck. That's it. God, I can't get enough of your damn dick," he moaned, trembling. "So close. Close. Fuck. Make me come, Baby, make me come." He moved to look him in the eyes. "Make me come like I'm yours."

Dylan pressed down against his breasts as they returned, moaning as they pressed back, growing heavy, swollen. If he was trying to drive him mad, between that and the pheromones and the feel of him around him, he was. And -- well, Daniel had said it. Fuck.

All but whimpering, needy, hungry, driven thoughtless, mad, running on instinct, he drove into him mercilessly. And when Daniel looked at him, he could do nothing but obey, driving harder, the hand wrapped around one horn, working it as if it were a cock pulling away abruptly. He shifted, wedging his fingers between them even as they moved, heavy and hard, and pressed his fingers into Daniel's clit, playing at it lightly enough not to hurt but frantically. He needed Daniel to come as much as he needed to himself, balls drawing up slowly with need as he moved towards that edge.

"Please," he managed to choke out. It didn't even occur to him that he was begging.

Giving as much as he was taking, becoming more of what he could be and less than what he had been. It wasn't just wings and claws, claws that raked lightly over Dylan's skin. It was the thoughts that he could easily open Dylan's skin, have blood pouring over him even as Dylan fucked him raw.

Dylan could heal. Daniel could as well. That was part of it. All he was taking, everything that had changed, and he just wanted more. He had no desire to lose any of it. Not in the least. Suddenly he wanted it all. All of it and everything.

He could feel that hand on his horn, stroking him, making his clit throb with every stroke, feeling almost like it was pulsing against Dylan's fingers.

Yet it was that statement, being pleaded with to come. That was enough to make him want to do just what Dylan wanted.

"Only if you bite me before you come," he managed to choke out, even as he arched up, kissing Dylan once more. Hard, drawing in the sexual energy even as he shuddered, bucked, came hard around Dylan. Feeling every flutter of his cunt around thick flesh as he broke the kiss, mewling and moaning as he came, feeling as if it wouldn't ever stop.

Dylan groaned at the request, trying to pull his thoughts together long enough to change himself, go back to the vampire. It didn't occur to him that he might burn for it (might, but wouldn't, the two of them hidden in the shadow of the stall), all that mattered was doing what Daniel wanted, a reward for playing along so well so far and surely not Daniel's own, new power wrapping him up in a haze of lust, a desire to please.

Which ever way it truly was, however, he managed, eyes suddenly blood-black with his desire, all of it, teeth sharpening into fangs against his mouth. He nipped at Daniel's lip as he pulled away from the kiss, moaning himself and loudly as Daniel's cunt twitched around him, and then he was burying his face in his throat. He came, not quite as ordered, at that first taste of blood, spilling into him with a final, hard jerk of his hips.

And God, he could taste Daniel's pleasure in his blood, taste himself, his energy on him as if it were a real thing, a tangible thing, like Daniel had tasted his own pussy on his cock when he'd sucked him off. It was amazing. And if he'd been worried about getting hard again last time, just buried in Daniel, feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm, he was doubly so, now, more lust rushing through him with every little flutter, every drop of blood.

"Fuck," he choked as he broke away, breathless. Never mind the fact that he could have kept going, kept taking. Daniel would have survived it and it wasn't like he actually needed the air.

Power was almost a tangible thing between them as Dylan shifted, eyes flashing differently and knowing that the fangs came with it. Just that thought made him tremble, body still shuddering from the afterschocks and knowing what was to come. Likely him again, if this went as he thought it would. Or how he was hoping it would as Daniel bore down, purposefully working his cunt against Dylan, just to see what he might do, what Danny could do to him.

Then there was pleasure. Fucking insane amounts of pleasure. It shot through Danny, straight to his core, and then through to his cunt. There wasn't even a moment to think. Not when he could still taste Dylan, could feel him coming inside of him. Daniel whimpered, whining, crying out as he came again, claws scratching a bit more roughly over Dylan's back, barely able to stay conscious enough to catch himself from trying to bathe himself in Dylan's blood.

Powered by lust, lightheaded from being fed on like that, and still bucking as this second orgasm left him barely able to even see past the haze of lust.

That -- there were no words for it, really.

Never mind the fact that he tried for them, choked on them, watched them swallowed by another moan, this one louder. A whimper followed, not at the bite of claws, which he arched into, surprisingly, but at the jerk of his hips that followed. He couldn't help it, wasn't sure what to do with it, Daniel's second break both wonderful and painful on his oversensitive cock.

In the end, despite the fact that some small part of him knew it was a terrible idea, he attached his mouth to Daniel's throat again, fangs digging in again. A whine followed as he tasted his orgasm and his power a second time through blood. He could feel himself getting hard again inside him almost despite himself, despite the fact that men weren't supposed to be hardwired to go again this soon or have multiple orgasms or -- whatever.

He wasn't sure he cared. Blame it on inhuman stamina on both their parts.

Even Daniel was silent. No, he wasn't speaking, but that didn't mean he wasn't making a myriad of noises as he trembled through his second release. So much of what Daniel had wanted, needed over the years, was coming together in this moment. Being needed, wanted, capable and sure of himself. Later he would likely have another thought on this, find himself caught between the man he was and the monster he was becoming, but with Dylan's weight pressing down on him, and feeling himself filled even as he was drained, that was nothing Danny wanted to face now.

Instead he rocked against Dylan, making it clear that he wanted anything that the other man would give him... or offered whatever Dylan wanted to take from him. Blood. Pleasure. Whatever he wanted.

His eyes flared crimson, loving that he had brought Dylan to that state once more. He finally found his voice, only for one reason.

"Flip over," he managed, voice hoarse and throaty at the same time.

For an instant, Dylan surfaced from the haze of want brought on by Daniel, by him still trembling around him, by his dick responding in kind at Daniel's command. He wasn't sure where that brief moment of clarity had come from, the smell of him, the lingering taste of his blood in his mouth, how tight and wet and God he still was for him, but he had one, all the same. And the thought that came with it? The thought that came with it was that maybe they should stop.

It wasn't the feeding he was worried about, his or Daniel's own, as neither of them could really die. He couldn't drain Daniel dry any more than he could drive him to the point of death by exhaustion or suicide or whatever it was succubi were supposed to do to their victims. It wasn't even the bite of Daniel's claws that worried him, the feel of his own blood running down his back for an instant like drops of rain before his body took the initiative to heal. No, in this case, it was the idea that they might get caught in some sort of loop, the both of them getting off, the both of them turned on again, over and over, until -- what, exactly? How long would they be stuck like this? And more than that Daniel shouldn't have been able to have this kind of control over him, leading him around, very literally, by his dick. He was supposed to be the one in charge here. He --

And when that instant of sanity faded, when Daniel's eyes all but sparked, he decided he didn't care. If he was the only one that could satisfy Daniel until he released him of that command, he was more than happy to let him return the favor over and over and over again. He needed him. He needed what Daniel had fantasized at his pleasure earlier, him bouncing along on his cock, watching him drive up into him desperately, watching him come or -- whatever else Daniel had in mind.

With that thought, he whimpered, nodding furiously, and shifted, hands going to Daniel's hips to pull him along with him, tight and close, not wanting to lose the heat and warmth of his cunt around him as he rolled onto his back. When he'd gotten them settled again and without waiting for further prompting, he reached to skate his fingers lazily along the curve of one of Daniel's horns again. Whatever was coming, whatever he had in mind for him, for them, he wanted him to feel it, too, be ready for it, want it as much as he wanted Daniel. He figured touching those horns could only help wind him up again, especially when he'd taken care to make them as sensitive as his clit, the head of his cock, whatever.

"Whatever you want," he murmured belatedly.

Daniel's world was, for all intents and purposes, gone. All he had wanted, who he had been, it was dead to his mind and body in that moment. He wasn't thinking about anything but Dylan. All he was giving to Daniel, all that he had taken as well. He knew he'd know the man's scent on a tee shirt, remember the taste of his kiss, and the way his cock stretched both mouth and pussy. Even without horns and claws, he would think about the feel of a hand stroking his horn, and of skin splitting just so beneath his claws. There was no turning back. Even if he tried to stay away, he would still remember it all.

And he wouldn't know how much that would keep him on this edge. That each time he thought of Dylan and got hard, he would stroke himself and find there was no denying his desires. He would grow claws and horns and his body would do whatever it must to appeal to Dylan, wanting him.

Wanting what he'd just had, the push of cock inside of them as they moved, sliding over, pushing himself up on his knees and grinding down against Dylan. Those words came to him, and he smiled. It was slow and wicked, showing the hints of tiny fangs to heighten the appearance as a succubus.

"No," he whispered, shifting to lean down and over Dylan. It made him slide off Dylan slightly, body clenching around him as if hating the idea of even losing that connection to him. "Whatever you want," he whispered, staring into Dylan's eyes. For a minute the color was not that of the demon form but of Daniel himself. It was what drove him to that form, brought him to the sort that killed by sexual pleasure, wanting to offer that to Dylan.

"And trust me," he said, still smiling as he shifted back, sliding himself ever so slowly down onto Dylan once more. He braced his hands on the other man's chest as he gave a slow, playful circle of his hips. Almost as if he was dancing, rolling his hips, and using that to roll himself on Dylan's cock. "You want this."

Dylan would probably like that. Knowing that, when this was over, when he gave him his dick back, the rest of it would stick. That whenever he got going, he'd change, without further orders on Dylan's part and --

Well. He might have been a mind reader, but he had no presence of mind for it now, so that delicious possibility never occurred to him. All he knew was Daniel pulling away and he whimpered, looking up at him and his eyes, his own eyes, something like agony in his as he arched up, trying to follow him, meet him again, push into him. That wasn't fair, not when he wanted him as badly as he did, not when he was so fucking hard it hurt.

Another soft sound followed as Daniel started to sink back onto him, fingers digging into where they'd remained at his hips, trying to help, helpless himself. "God, yes," he managed as his fingers relaxed, tightened again, over and over. "Please -- fuck, just -- need you."

The last was punctuated by a hungry, inhuman growl as he strained further, meeting him as he sunk back down.

It was amazing seeing Dylan like this. Needy and wanton, begging for it. Daniel had wanted this in some way for as long as he had known the man and yet could never have put a name to it. Until now. He wanted Dylan to want him, to need him. He had always thought magically but this, this was better. This was in a way that Daniel knew he could be as good, if not better, as the man beneath him. Whatever it took, he thought, he would give him that.

Letting his nails just barely dig in against Dylan's chest, using that pressure to brace himself as he rocked, riding him with low, slow, strokes as he stared down at him.

"You have me," he whispered, voice low and melodic, drawing in the energy of pleasure and letting it pour out in his voice as well. "Have me fucking you until you pass out," he purred, liking the idea of showing Dylan so much pleasure he couldn't stand it.

"Come on, Boss," he murmured, smiling down at him, eyes fairly glowing. "Fuck me. Fuck me until I beg you to come in me," he said, trying to use words to push Dylan further as he rocked harder, faster, dropping himself down onto Dylan's cock with grunts and moans that rumbled through his body. "Fuck what's yours and only yours," he said, dragging his nails lightly over Dylan's chest as he began slam fucking himself against the other man.

Dylan liked that, the idea that Daniel was his and only his. Never mind the fact that he'd done that to him, left him needed only him, his own hands, anyone else not enough, never enough, not ever again, but -- still. It was good to hear. It was something he'd have to make sure stuck, if he made Daniel keep this, and he just might, maybe, if he couldn't remember later why that might be a bad idea, if Daniel begged to stay a monster.

But later. He'd think about that later. Right now, he was busy, literally trembling in his need, as he arched up to meet Daniel again and again. Small noises followed each thrust, a mix of whimpers and moans and grunts, the only sound beyond the slap of their bodies as they came together. His fingers tightened at his hips, bruising, then relaxed, then danced over him erratically, desperately, at his ass pulling him tighter against him, then one breast, his horns again, his face, back to his hips. He wasn't sure what he was doing, really, beyond the need to touch him, to wind him up enough to make him beg him to come, as promised.

He needed to get him off again. He needed to get them both off, even if unfortunately and despite Daniel's power, it probably wouldn't lead to unconsciousness on his part, the energy Daniel was breathing in replaced almost as quickly as he could take it. There was something to be said for fucking a man with a healing factor when you were a succubus, apparently.

Dylan had molded Daniel well in a short time, and likely it would only become worse the longer it went on. Acceptance was easy now, and when he came to accept it when it wasn't feeling this good as well.

Daniel though wasn't thinking of himself as a monster, likely for the same reasons. Mostly because of the sounds Dylan was making, the look on the other man's face, and knowing he was doing this to him. Wanting to be good, to be impressive, to be wanted and needed, all of that was coming together and he was loving it. Loving all of it as he leaned in closer to Dylan, giving him free room to roam with his hand, to touch him and caress and leave Daniel panting as he made soft, almost pained sounds with every hard slam of his body against Dylan's.

"Oh fuck," he muttered, eyes starting to roll back, lashes fluttering. "That. God fuck, don't stop. Don't..." It was almost like warning, even as he dropped back, sliding back onto Dylan, hard and fast. Needing to be closer to him, to feel the soft brush of hairs against his breasts, but it was all so his mouth could find Dylan's.

Brushing his mouth without kissing him, body trembling, losing his rhythm. "Fuck. Oh God," he breathed against his mouth. "Come in me. Please, fuck, please."

And then his mouth claimed Dylan's, kissing him hard even as he drew on the lust, feeding hard on it as desperately as he could.

Dylan arched, as always, to meet him, his chest pressed against his, feeling the weight of his tits with no small amount of pleasure, hips and cock continuing his assault into him. This was everything Daniel had fantasized about, everything he'd made him fantasize about, minus perhaps Daniel being able to watch his face as he came. Mostly because when he did break, when he fell to that lust even as it was pulled out of him and the roll of Daniel's hips and all of it, he did so with his mouth pressed to Daniel's just as hungrily.

They'd both be bruised for it, however briefly. They'd both be bruised for how violently he shuddered against him as he spilled into him. He had no complaints, however, and the sounds he made to go along with it, helpless and wonderful, probably spoke volumes to that fact. As did the fact that his thrusts kept going even as he finished, fingers creeping down between them, hand caught and released and caught again as he moved against him, so he could punctuate the end of ever roll of his hips with a brush of fingers over Daniel's clit.

All he had fantasized about indeed.

Daniel wasn't sure he wanted to stop. There was a part of him that wanted to push, to keep going, to take all that he could and see how long he could drag this out.

There was a part of him that would try, except that Dylan got that hand between them and he couldn't breathe as he came. Just like that. There was no holding back. Not with the heat of Dylan's release inside of him, and riding the high of the lust coursing through him.

Breaking the kiss, leaning back to stare down at Dylan. Flushed and eyes bright from the lust he'd fed on, feeling good, so good he was still rocking against Dylan even as his cunt continued to pulse around him.

Yet the words he found had nothing to do with going on. They were Daniel himself showing beneath the succubus.

"Don't let me keep going," he whispered, lips caressing against Dylan's cheek, against his throat. "Not sure I can stop," he admitted, showing how far this first time had pushed him, a preview of where it all could go.

Dylan was tempted to deny him that. Him still on top of him, trembling around him, his mouth at his throat now and knowing they could both survive it, it would have been so easy to say no, to let them keep rising and falling. To let Daniel continue to feed on him forever, if it felt that good for both of them. It was --

He shook his head, dismissing the desire as much as he hated to, and grasped for that moment of clarity he'd managed earlier. It took effort, real effort, but somehow, he managed and all on his own, without Daniel pushing him. Without him leading him around by his cock. This was the opposite of that.

Turning his head, he let out a breath, stole one last, quick kiss from Daniel, and then ordered, "Stop. Enough. Enough for both of us." There was, as expected, power behind those words, just in case Daniel couldn't keep a handle on himself long enough to actually stop on his own. Just in case he, himself, couldn't.

Truth of the matter was that Daniel was not sure he could have stopped if not for that command. Everything in him was ready to go, to keep riding Dylan. Or worse, to ask for more. The thought of bending over the stall, of looking back, legs spread, and begging him to fuck him again. It was all there, just beneath the surface. He wasn't even sure he could get wetter, and yet his body tried, reacting to those thoughts.

Right until the wash of magic came over him.

Gasping, he forced himself to slide off Dylan's cock, not willing to leave though as he settled himself, sprawled over the other man and panting hard. It felt good, strong lines against the swell of his tits, the way his legs spread, baring his wet cunt and leaving him vulnerable and yet knowing he was safe there. Even if they were out in the open and bits of grass speckled his skin.

His clawed fingers lightly brushed Dylan's cheek, closing his eyes. "Mmmm, God, you are delicious."

Dylan groaned as he pulled away, closed his eyes tightly, trying not to feel as though he'd made some sort of terrible mistake in making him stop. No. As good as that was, as much as he wanted to keep going, just -- no. This was right, as much as he hated it. As much as he wanted to change his mind, shift, touch himself until he got hard again, push back into him, take one nipple into his mouth and -- no.

Taking a deep breath, he held it for a moment, and let it out a sigh. Feeling steadier with that, he opened his eyes as Daniel closed his own, head turning slightly into his fingers. Into his claws. "Which part, the sex or what you took from me during it?"

Every breath Daniel took helped to make him feel more human, more rooted in his body than in the pleasure that could take hold of him. A tiny voice in the back of his head argued that he should never let it go, but Dylan had stopped him, had called a stop, and even with the desire that left him so transformed, Danny wasn't willing to go against Dylan's desires... even if he was fairly certain he could. Not only that he could, but that Dylan wouldn't stop him.

That left him smiling, humming softly under his breath until he laughed, stroking those claws oh so delicately along Dylan's cheek. "Yes. All of it. Delicious," he said, smiling impishly. "It all goes together," he pointed out. "Even..."

His touch stilled, his gaze taking in those claws without being clouded by need.

"Shit," he muttered, brain finally taking over, if only for a moment.

Oh, Daniel. So arrogant like this.

Dylan still outclassed him, magically -- he could be anything, do anything, and sure, Daniel may have had his hooks in him, but all it would take, if it came down to it, was a moment of clarity like he had experienced before, like he was settling back into now as Daniel moved away from the lust, and it would all end. Permanently. He'd tell Daniel to stop, to go back to being human, being weak, and the contest of wills would be over. There would be nothing he could do about it, regardless of what he wanted or didn't want or -- whatever. Then again, maybe that was his own arrogance talking. Who knew?

At the moment, it didn't matter, though. At the moment, Dylan wasn't thinking that, wasn't thinking much of anything beyond a feeling of satisfaction. One that faded around the edges as Daniel swore. He shifted a little, faintly, and looked over at him. "What?"

Edited 2015-03-27 05:15 (UTC)

Yet Daniel didn't want this. He wanted to be wanted, needed, encouraged. He wanted to be special, though he hadn't thought about it this way. Was this special? Was that what Dylan wanted or had he taken it too far, warped himself for nothing?

"I just... I hadn't..." He reached out, touching one of the horns that curled up and against his skull. "You want me like this," he muttered softly, half asking, but also stating as if that had been obvious. It had been obvious.

He didn't think about how needy he sounded, lowering his head and pressing his brow to Dylan's collarbone. "I didn't mean to take it that far. I hadn't mean to become..." He wasn't even sure the word for what he was, just that he had become something that was willing to feed from another, one that had hurt Dylan because he liked how it felt.

"I hadn't meant to lose control like this," he said, apologizing in his own words, feeling it was like when he'd asked Dylan if he was really him. Daniel had lost control and might have ruined things, and that scared him. He fucked up things in his life when they were good, and he didn't want to fuck this up. He wanted this.

"I wanted to see what you'd do, if I gave you a little push." Dylan wasn't terribly worried about admitting to the fact that he'd set this whole thing in motion. What could Daniel really do? Fuck him stupid again? "You picked that on your own."

Like he'd picked the (could he really call it) manscaping as far as his cunt went.

"But it's fine, it's -- it was good." All of it. The feeding, the claws, the fact that Daniel could only get off with his active participation. (And that, perhaps, was another way Dylan could win a war raged between them if it came to it. All he had to do was cut Daniel off. He'd starve to death. He'd do whatever he wanted just to feed, because no one else would be able to give him that.) "I can fix it, though, if you want."

Make him human again. Put some kind of limit on his powers if he wanted to keep them. Let him choose when he had the claws and fangs and horns and tits and when he didn't -- provided, of course, he wasn't fantasizing about him and his dick or on top of him. Something. Hell, he was tempted, now, to change Daniel back, regardless of what he said. He could always make him shift again later, if he really wanted to go through all that again (and he did). It would solve a lot of problems in the meantime for both of them.

The words echoed in his head. It was Dylan's magic, and yet when given such power, when driven to that edge, what Daniel chose was this. He chose horns and claws, drawing the sexual energy off another. There was a niggling thought on the edge of his mind that he had done this before, just in different ways. He had used and taken and had what he wanted, without little to no concern about the desires and needs of others. Was that why this and now?

That offer though made him pause. He opened his mouth, considering what to say and then stopping himself. Part of him wanted it gone, fearing he would use it on others. If it made Dylan want him though...

"What do you want?" He asked, knowing where he was putting himself and the way he sounded. No sarcasm, no smart ass comments. Wanting to know what it was Dylan wanted. He wasn't going to push him to walking out again. "Though... the tits..." He loved them and wasn't sure why that bothered him and not the rest. Except for one thing. "It's going to mean relearning every card trick I know." It changed his balance and the flow of his arms, after all.

Dylan shifted under him again, as if in doing so, he could get a better look at him. A long moment of silence followed, as his eyes danced over Daniel's face, as he tried to decide what he did want and what would work best for them. Or, well, for him, not Daniel.

"Tell you what," he started, a swell of power already beggining in his voice. Never mind how he phrased it, Daniel would obey. "Why don't you keep the whole demon look for now?" The horns, the claws, the little chips of fangs, and especially those eyes. Not that he had any problems with the way he looked normally, just -- well. Even if how he looked now wasn't his specifically his doing, he couldn't say it wasn't a turn on, especially the way he looked at him like that. "You can figure out the card thing. It'll give you something to do."

He would keep the terrible, wild magic, too -- what Teleios had given him, what he'd gotten back the first time he'd tried to get himself off -- and while Dylan didn't say as much, he pushed that at Daniel silently. He didn't know if it would work, per se, but he figured that if he could make him change without him hearing him, he could give him that without saying anything. He hoped Daniel used it again, purposefully or otherwise, to hurt someone. He also pushed the thought that that magic could never be used against him at him.

"Keep the hunger that comes with it, too," he continued after a moment, wetting his lips. This was said aloud, despite what Daniel's reaction would be, if only to make sure it stuck. "You can get yourself off again without me, but it won't do anything to satisfy that. You need to eat, you're gonna have to come find me, fuck me. No one else is gonna be able to get you as hard or as wet or whatever as I do, no one else is gonna cut it, and if you try screwing someone else, you're gonna kill them when you try and feed, and it's not gonna do jack for you."

It wouldn't matter what shift Dylan was in, if he was himself, if he was disguised as someone or something else, all that would matter was that it was him. His body would know. That unslakeable lust he was leaving him with would know. That way, if Henley came back, Daniel wouldn't run off with her forever. That way, he couldn't abandon him or, assuming they did have some sort of falling out and Daniel tried to act against him, he would, in fact, be sacrificing his meal ticket in turning against him. Daniel, it seemed, wasn't the only jealous one -- or the only egotistical one there.

"Otherwise," he dropped his eyes, staring down at the tits with a frown. Oh, but he wanted Daniel to keep them, but -- well. He should probably conceed something. It was only fair, however barely fair any of this actually was. "Otherwise, for the most part, I'll let you decide what you're doing as far as the tits and what's between your legs go. You can go back and forth between your dick and this whenever you want without me. I've got final say, though. If I wanna screw and I want this -- " He shifted a little underneathe Daniel and intentionally so, all but writhing to draw attention to the swell of his breasts, that still wet pussy. As if Daniel needed the reminder. " -- you'll give me this."

Where ever and when ever he wanted, even if that meant in public. Even if that meant everyone watching him as his dick pushed in on itself and his chest filled out.

"I've got final say, period," he finished, glancing back up at him. "I tell you to stop, you stop. I tell you to keep going, you keep going." This was more than about the sex, too. This was about making sure his magic still had weight, that Daniel couldn't, would never be able to fight it. If he told him to go kill himself (or go kill someone else), he would. Not that he imagined it'd come to that, seeing as how he still wanted Daniel and he figured that his urges would drive him to madness, to hurt someone all on his own without him eventually, but he wanted to make that perfectly clear. Daniel was as much a slave to him, still, as he might occasionally be to him, to the lust he bled into him.

"Sound good?" A beat. "And if I'm missing something here, let me know." He wanted to make sure he had all his bases covered and in his own favor, after all. No loopholes.

Edited 2015-03-27 15:44 (UTC)

Despite the order, with Dylan shifting like that Daniel wasn't sure how well he could stay still and not try for more. It was less about the nature of the beast he was becoming, or the magic that Dylan had used against him. Daniel was, in so many ways, a hedonist, and he'd now had some of the most mind blowing sex of his life and he wanted more.

No, he had to admit to himself the truth. If only for himself. It was the best sex of his life, and he wanted more of it. Anything to keep feeling like that.

The magic spun around him, taking hold of his mind and body. There was no physical shift, but he could almost feel the changes taking hold. He would be seen by all with horns, with claws that could tear through flesh. With eyes that showed how inhuman he was becoming, if not already was. Something in that though didn't bother Daniel. Such a look was a power of its own, even if others didn't know how or why, what he could do, he had the look of a more powerful being. Not as powerful as Dylan, likely never that powerful, but there was something delightful in this. He was able to heal. He was able to kill if he chose. He was wild and dangerous and more than he had been.

He was also likely going to shred a few descks before he got a handle on it and likely going to hurt himself with those claws, but that was the price to pay for how he looked.

"I'll practice with the cards," he said, the first words he'd said since Dylan's proclamation. Maybe it was worrying he'd say the wrong thing. Maybe it was not wanting to make the wrong smart ass comment and end up laying on his ass, aching and wet still and alone. He really hated that idea.

Yet Dylan went on and Daniel whined, a sharp, pitiful sound. "And you'll be there for me?" he asked, his voice as sharp sounding as the whine. "You know my throat is yours," he said, as if offering his own feeding meant that Dylan would be there for his own. "You know I'll make it good for you, Boss. You know that," he insisted, trying to make sure this wasn't going to be used against him. Though he was sure it would be. It was like information, another form of control, and if Daniel had been Dylan, he would have done the same for to him. Pushed it and played with him, wanting to see just what he would do.

He paused though at that look, the frown. Danny reached for Dylan's hand, bringing it to his breast. "If you ask, I'll keep them," he said, putting it on Dylan, showing that it was for him and not for anything Daniel himself wanted. Yet he wanted to hear Dylan say it, to know that he wanted it. If it made Daniel special to Dylan, he would do it, even if he wouldn't beg and plead to hear it. At least not openly, even if he asked it in a million different ways.

Moaning as Dylan moved, rocking back against him once more. Magic and desire warred in his head, wanting to slide down and suck Dylan off, to ride him again until someone turned the hose on them. Yet he'd been told, backed by magic and so he just wriggled, enjoying the sensation of Dylan's body against his own.

"I answer to you, Boss," he said softly, staring into his eyes. "You had that before this and that doesn't change."

Dylan was the leader of the Horsemen. Sex and a change in magic didn't change that in Daniel's mind.

making war just for fun (for first_rule)

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