making war just for fun (for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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.
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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Later, he might be glad he hadn't thought of it. Now, he was still clinging to Daniel, a groan rolling through him as Daniel continued to tremble around him. Those aftershocks were, apparently, just as good the other way around. He was pretty sure he'd be hard again in a few minutes if he kept that up, if he stayed buried in him, and he'd made no motions thus far to pull out, even as his cock softened inside him.
And speaking of. Sort of.
"You know," he started once he caught his breath. It took awhile, even if he was just reflex for what he was, right now. "I wonder if you'd be hard again if I made you change back now." Rearranging that much sensitive material was bound to have some kind of effect, right? "I might make you keep the tits, though."
He moved a hand from his back around to his side, fingers sliding up the skin there, skating over where breast extended further than his ribs. He held his hand there for a moment, fingers splaying wide as he cupped at warm, pert flesh, and then very slowly, lightly, a wicked albeit hazy grin coming to his face, he pulled his thumb over his nipple again. "They look good on you."
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He wanted to think of how much he liked being held like this, with a broad chest against his own, and strong arms around him. He wanted to think about the way Dylan sounded, all sexed up and blissed out and talking about wanting more as if he might want to do this again. Danny liked that, liked the idea of being fucked again, even if he didn't want to think about what it was that Dylan did to him so that he could have him.
How it happened shouldn't matter. He had the life he wanted, people in his life he needed and who he wanted to be with, and now he had this. A chance to be something with Dylan, to offer himself in ways maybe others would not.
Course then Dylan commented about making him hard again, and about leaving the breasts there on his chest. Daniel snorted, rolling his eyes at him, even as he rolled his hips, grinding against the softening cock and dragging his blunt nails lightly over the back of Dylan's neck.
"So it's not the face you object to but the body? How do I even explain them to the others?"
Not arguing, mostly because he thought of it as a joke. It wasn't like they could leave them. Hell, some small part of Daniel wondered if this was madness, that he had lost his mind somewhere in shooting Dylan and seeing him still alive, and maybe none of this was real. The thought wasn't as pleasant as he might have thought it should be.
He leaned in, kissing Dylan softly. "They can't stay," he said, sounding more like himself though he knew it was likely that Dylan would argue it with him. No, not argue it. Just make it happen. It wasn't as if Danny could change things, after all. Not unless Dylan did it for him.
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Not that that stopped him from absently returning the favor, pressing flush against Daniel for a moment as he returned the kiss. Neither his mouth or his hips were quite as cruel, this time. If not for the fact that Daniel had tits and a cunt, if not for the fact that Dylan probably would have enjoyed the notion that he'd driven Daniel literally mad in a matter of maybe half an hour, it might have been easy to pretend this was normal and he was sane.
Not that that illusion lasted long, as at the protest, Dylan hummed, amused. "Not like you'd really have any choice. If I told you to keep them, you would." Even after the hour he'd demanded ran out. "You'd have to find a way to tie them down, to keep Neal or whoever from noticing. And whenever I wanted to, I could just ... "
He paused, working his jaw faintly as if he planned on spitting. Something far worse followed, the wet sound of flesh shifting issuing in his mouth. He parted his lips slightly, tongue now longer than it should have been lolling out of one side of his mouth, and it didn't stop there. His tongue continued to stretch, bloat, taking on life of its own as is grew into something thick and hideous and almost prehensile. He leaned a little closer to Daniel and the appendage curled around his nipple, wet and warm, tugging at it. He expected part fear, part arousal in response and that was the point. If he made Daniel keep the breasts, he could secretly get him off or at least ready to go without anyone realizing what the problem was.
Point made, his tongue pulled away abruptly, curling up to slither back into his mouth. One could only imagine it melting back into its original, normal size and shape like a bit of candy left in the mouth too long after that.
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Pushing his fingers lower, groaning as he felt the heat and moisture, the base of Dylan's cock against his fingers. "God, how do you even fucking fit," he moaned, realizing that all those times he'd heard that in pornos and all, this time he honestly wondered it. Of course, as full as he felt, he felt like it was a just barely sort of thing, and he liked that. Liked that he'd been tight for Dylan.
He paused though, gaze raising to Dylan, lashes fluttering. "You're..." He swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. "Are you planning to leave me like this," he finally managed, mind racing over what that meant. It wasn't just hiding them. It was changing elsewhere. It was not being with another because how could he explain this? Especially to anyone who had known him before. Like if Henley ever returned.
Yet even with all the panic rising, it was getting a friend in a hint of terror. As that tongue lolled out, and Dylan' let the damned appendage caress his skin and Daniel jerked his hand back from between them as if afraid Dylan's cock would start doing the same thing.
"Okay, not that," he said, shaking his head, hating that he was showing fear, that he was giving Dylan ammunition against him. Of course, that brought another thought, one that left a sick knot at the pit of his stomach.
"Are you.... are you really Dylan?" If he could change Daniel, then what face truly lay beneath the one that looked like Dylan.
Yet the thought it wasn't Dylan, might not be him, started to sour what had been. Fucking Dylan was amazing, and he wanted it. Fucking something wearing Dylan's face was something else entirely.
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-- and then came the question about whether or not he was really himself, and that killed his arousal, albeit not the start of his renewed hard on.
"You just let me fuck you and now your worried about that?" he countered, leveling Daniel with a look. He let that linger there for a moment, pulling out of him in the silence, disgusted that Daniel would think otherwise, never mind how he might have made him wonder. When he'd managed to push his cock back down into his underwear and had gotten started on fixing his fly, he continued with, "It's me. I'm just a hell of a lot more powerful than you remember."
And for the question, he looked as if he was intent on leaving Daniel like that, however briefly. When the look finally faded, he rolled his eyes and, with more magic backing his words, grumbled, "You can have your dick and balls back." A beat. "And lose the tits."
Despite his irritation, he couldn't quite keep himself from dropping his eyes to Daniel's crotch, to watch the change as it happened, this time.
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His arm moved up, covering his breasts, looking away because he was disgusted with himself for asking, and kicking himself for ruining things. Not that he wasn't one hundred and ten percent perfect at destroying things just as they got good. Maybe it was the fear that it would be more, that it could be something and then it would be gone too. Or fear. It was likely stress of shooting someone and his body turning on him and then wanting to just beg for more. He had been seconds from going belly up and begging Dylan never to stop and that scared the hell out of him.
But the fear hadn't hurt as much as that dismissal as Dylan put himself back together.
Whimpering as his body changed, pain this time as tender, recently fucked flesh felt like it was falling out of him, heavier, thicker, twisting and he shifted, pushing his legs together as if to stop the sensation. It didn't stop though, stretching and burning and forming hard as it had been when the words had first been spoken. His arm dropped, flesh melting back into his chest, nipple shrinking and he closed his eyes tight, trying to hide the wetness that dampened his lashes.
"I'm..." He paused, voice cracking. Shit. He didn't even know what he wanted to say. "I'm..." He shook his head, sinking down the wall to sit down atop the tattered remains of his clothes. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he finally managed, words he didn't often say.
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He had half a mind to leave him there with his erection, tell him not to touch himself or anyone else before he did. That thought remained, even as Daniel apologized and he recognized the gravity of the words. If he wanted him to leave him with anything other than blue balls, he'd have to do more than say he was sorry, even if he accepted that much, his expression softening faintly as he breathed out a sigh.
"It's fine. I get it."
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"Jesus fucking Christ, Dylan. You made me shoot you and shook it off with less than you did one of Jack's cards. Then you fucking gave me tits and a cunt and then there was that... that thing," he said, gesturing at his mouth. Blood feedings, sexual changes, that he was dealing with. The creepy tongue thing, that had freaked him out.
"What kind of reaction am I supposed to have?" He shook his head. "Feel free to tell me and make me react that way but dammit, if I didn't have those kind of reactions, you never would have had a use for me in the first place." He looked beyond, knew how to make people look the wrong way and what good would it do if he ignored the possibility of another truth?
"Before today? I thought you'd just lost your damn mind with the whole hurting Jack and threatening me things. You've had a learning curve of knowing about it for how long? Me? I've known for a fucking hour, and in that time I have been royally fucked and shot someone I care about. Forgive me for being a bit behind."
It was something else he hated admit. It was one thing knowing he wasn't the smartest guy in the room, and hadn't been since Dylan came into their life. It was another admitting it out loud.
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Letting out an almost frustrated breath, he scrubbed a hand over his stubble. When he dropped it, he allowed, "But alright, fine. Take your time. Digest it. I've only had a week to get a handle on this shit, myself, but whatever."
Apparently that was all the time in the world. Never mind the fact that he had, in fact, forced Daniel to shoot him and then fucked him and that did change things. That was a hell of a lot faster than he'd been thrown into things. He'd only had to cope with his dying morality.
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Except he didn't want to lose Dylan and the Horsemen. More than that, he wanted that look from Dylan again. He wanted him just sniffing his skin and growling in desire. He wanted it all back, even if he was the one that had just fucked it all up.
He pushed himself to his feet, using that momentum to close the distance between them. "Don't ever make me shoot you again, okay? I mean, seriously, that..." He shook his head. Dylan had literally taken his manhood, but the shooting him had been worse. "I don't like hurting you. I've worked not to hurt my friends, okay? Don't make me?"
He knew that saying it meant he might do it again, just to prove he could.
He moved in a step closer. "Wouldn't you have asked me the same thing if I had been lapping over your tits with a weird tongue thing?"
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He supposed he could allow that. He didn't really want Daniel killing him however often, even if he could survive it. That would get real old, real quick for the inconvenience of it all, even if it would likely break Daniel more, make him more pliant, more willing to accept this as he slowly lost his mind. The first time was just to prove a point and if he really wanted to strip him of his sanity, well, he could think of better ways of doing it.
"And right now, probably not." Maybe before his own fall into darkness. Maybe before he'd made a deal, made this permanent. Maybe then, he would have been just as freaked out as Daniel -- probably even more so, if only for how hard he clung to his heterosexuality then, and fuck tits. Not now, though. Now, he couldn't help but look dimly, darkly amused as he glanced at Daniel. "Now, I'd probably wonder what else you could do with that tongue."
Give a hell of a blowjob, he figured, or make eating him out that much more interesting, assuming he had made him keep the pussy. Or, if he wasn't still half-hard and was feeling more violent -- well, he had visions of using his tongue to snap someone's neck at a distance.
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Clearing his throat, trying to dismiss those fantasies, he knew that he had two options. He could let this go, hope that Dylan didn't dismiss him entirely - even as a Horseman - and try and not think about how good the encounter had felt or...
Or he could be the hedonist that Danny was capable of being.
Stepping closer, he ran his hand along Dylan's chest, lightly scratching his nails along his sternum. "And have you thought about what you could do with tat tongue?"
He was pushing his luck and he knew this was crazy. He should take it for the one night of insanity and move on. Except he wasn't sure he wanted to. He wanted to be wanted, and he thought maybe he had a chance here. Even if it was just offering his throat from time to time.
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He let his eyes drift down to his cock, suggestively. He was sure Daniel could get where he was going with this. He wanted him to either ask him outright or beg again, though. Either would go a long way towards making up for being a killjoy just a few minutes ago.
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Slowly Daniel's gaze lifted, staring into Dylan's gaze. "Are you offering to blow me?" He blinked at that, a bit stunned. "Because, yeah, so saying yes to that," he said. "Even with the creepy alien tongue," he said, smirking and sliding a hand along Dylan's waist to try and keep him from leaving at that joke.
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He hadn't named a specific person to him to suddenly develop the cunt of, after all, hadn't thought about it, just wanting to be inside him. Maybe there was something subconscious there, some pushing him in whoever's direction, but -- that wasn't anyone he remembered fucking previously. He would have figured that that was Daniel's body's attempt at Henley's pussy, if not for the comment. Maybe it was, maybe he just didn't realize it. Maybe it wasn't. Who knew? Who cared, right now, really?
"But yeah, why not? I figure I owe you for that, either way." For making him into something else, not for the creepy alien tongue stunt. Not that he clarified, just let Daniel pull him close if only so he could press against him however briefly. "Unless you wanna blow me. I'd take that, too. I could even help."
By giving him the creepy alien tongue.
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"Oh you owe me for the shooting thing," he said, meaning it. Later, after he had a heart attack over all of this, he might change his mind. For now though he's focusing on sex, and how good it was, and feeling desired. "But we'll work that out," he said, leaning in to nip at that ridge of Dylan's collarbone. He paused though, leaning back and meeting his gaze again.
He arched a brow. "Do you really think I need that tongue to drive you mad? Really?" Okay so maybe he thought Dylan was a bit already mad but that was another story. "I may be Henleycentric but..." He shook his head. He wasn't entirely open about his sexuality but it had to do with lot with his need to be wanted, to feel he was needed and less to do with parts. Maybe why he was okay with how much his life had changed in just a matter of moments.
"Trust me, Dylan. After this? You will owe me," he said, sinking to his knees.
Daniel had mastered so much with his tongue, knowing that his ability to please others would make him wanted. Both in knowing that the best blowjobs were not just about sliding over cock, as well as how to spend an hour licking without his jaw cracking.
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"But if you've got something to prove, I'm not gonna stop you." And he wouldn't help, either, not in altering Daniel for his pleasure again or even so much as reaching for his fly to get it open. If he was going down on his knees for him, he wanted the whole experience.
And yeah, he'd still owe him one. Apparently, his sense of balance had remained to a certain degree, if only with a darker edge now.
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Which was a lot of the truth. It just hadn't been relevant. Not in his mind.
"What do I have to prove? I'm the guy that just let you fuck his cunt," he said, making a face. "Yeah, saying that is weird," he said, even as his hands went to Dylan's fly, working it open with much steadier hands this time. "Guess I'm about to find out what I taste like," he said blandly. His calmness in all of this was probably already proof that his sanity had taken a blow that day. It might recover. If he's given a chance. Of course, that may well never happen.
Getting the zipper down, he sank to his knees even as he pushed down denim and underwear beneath until they caught at the width of Dylan's thighs. Looking up at this man who had changed his life, chased him relentlessly, and then given him everything in the world Daniel had been looking for, he licked a line up his own palm before wrapping it around the base of Dylan's cock. Not dropping his case, he leaned in and dragged his tongue over the head and then around beneath the flare of the head, playing over sensitive spots for his own enjoyment as well as Dylan's.
Yeah, he was definitely trying to prove something.
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He paused, shrugging, and as Daniel continued, he added, "You'll get used to it," as if he planned on making this a thing, forcing him to be something else so he could fuck him regularly. He probably did. Between his reactions as he'd changed, his want to watch, since he had missed the better part of the show the first time, Daniel's jeans still in the way, how he'd felt around him, hot and tight and perfect, and -- well, yeah. Had he mentioned how good that had been? There'd definitely be a repeat performance the next time he and Daniel went at it.
The thought was shelved for the time being as Daniel unzipped him, however -- there were more important things to worry about, right now. Like the fact that the idea Daniel was about to touch him and the sight of him on his knees was enough to make him hard in earnest. Even if Daniel was wrong, was terrible at this, well, it was kind of hard to fuck up a blowjob. So far, so good, though, he decided distantly, hips jerking into Daniel's hand as he curled around him. Something not all that far removed from a whimper followed when his tongue touched to sensitive skin.
He reached out, fingers fisting in Daniel's hair, a breathy, "God," slipping out of him.
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What was leftover from Dylan fucking him was different than other girls he'd tasted, and he wasn't sure if that was him, or Dylan's own taste. It made him think about doing this another time, before they fucked, when all he would taste was the man standing over him, fisting his hair.
Which was enough encouragement to make him go back to what he was doing. Of course, he wasn't giving in easily, knowing he had something to prove. It was Danny's second downfall to his desire to be needed, and that was never to be shown up.
His hand twisted at the base, not stroking up and down on his shaft, but teasing at the root, even as the tips of his fingers brushed just along the top edge of his sac. Licking and nuzzling, all tongue and lips as he brushed the head, ran his barely open mouth along the shaft before tracing the thick vein from head to root with his tongue.
Not that he didn't dip lower, nuzzling at the weight of Dylan's sac, moaning as he lapped at the skin there. In truth he liked the scent, musky and sweet at the same time, making Daniel moan as he canted his head once more to look up at Dylan, liking the way it made his hair pull against the other man's grasp.
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Probably destroy him horribly. Make him a woman, permanently. Make him some sort of literal monster, all spines and wings and mindlessness. Something along those lines. He never got as much out, however, the statement cutting off into a moan as Daniel went back to work. Christ, just -- fuck.
Shaking his head faintly, the gesture almost reflexive, his fingers scrabbled in and out of Daniel's hair, needy and a little rough. He shifted a little, not quite bucking against him but clearly wanting to, straining against it, and let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. If he didn't look at Daniel when he looked up at him, well, it probably had something to do with the fact that his eyes were closed, fluttering.
"Daniel," he managed to choke out, not much more than a growl.
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Now though he was worried about lust, about pleasure and pleasing another. Later he'd show bites that felt good, peppery soft bites along his thighs, the curve of a hip. That was later though. Now was focusing as his gaze dropped, pausing to feel pleased with himself to get that sound from Dylan.
Then his lips parted, sliding them over the head of Dylan's cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip as he sank down until his lips slipped beneath the ridge. Pausing then to suckle gently, hand moving in a gently, barely moving stroking motion as he let himself slid down further, slowly, tongue along silken flesh, wetting and tasting all at the same time.
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"Daniel -- Jesus."
Anything else was lost to a rather undignified whimper. Well, at least he wasn't begging. Yet.
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Like knowing it wasn't just mouth and tongue but hands as well. Which was why his free hand slid up along Dylan's thigh, curving around it so his fingers brushed the curve of the other man's ass and then to brush beneath his balls, rubbing against that tender spot there.
Even as he shifted up higher on his knees. Pausing, nearly half way down, and then pulling back. Slowly, taking his time, almost slipping holy off Dylan. And then he was sucking hard, head bobbing up and down, not taking more than an inch or two, but fast and wet, making obscene sounds as he suckled hard as he worked over the head.
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It was almost as cruel as his own winding up of Daniel, before he'd fucked him, right after his dick had caved in on itself. It was more so because he wasn't the one doing the teasing. Fuck. If Daniel was just fucking with him, he'd find some way of getting back at him equally or more horrible than what he might have done to him if he'd tried biting him. He'd --
Apparently have his train of thought shattered as Daniel sunk back down on him, all perfect warmth and wet and suction. His hips jerked more intensely this time, cock starting in time, and clenched his eyes shut again where he'd started to open them as Daniel had pulled away. The way this was going, he wouldn't last long. It'd been awhile since he'd had someone suck him off with, as Daniel would put it, with such single-minded determination, and even in a place like Vegas. And really, he didn't, his balls starting to hitch up sooner rather than later, tension hooking low in his stomach.
"Daniel, I'm gonna -- fuck." Normally, he wouldn't have warned him, wouldn't have cared. If he was going to suck his cock, he could deal with a mouthful of come to go with it. It was a little hard to be a dick when you were coming apart, though, and as much as he might have wanted to.
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