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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"Laugh, not so much," he answered, shaking his head.

Use it against him, though? Well, as tempting as it was, just because he'd tipped to the other side of the scales permanently didn't mean he'd suddenly become a moron, too. Tempting as it was, he could agree for now, and either wait until Daniel asked him to change his mind, revoke his promise, or force him into hurting someone later and then either being okay with it or forgetting he'd ever done it in the first place. Whichever worked better.

That in mind and after raking his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully, he shrugged. "But fine, alright. If I decide someone's in my way and needs to be taken out, I'll do it myself. I don't mind getting my hands dirty."

That was a start, because he had figured there was a good chance that the answer would be to make him do it. Right then and there. So to get Dylan to agree, that settled him down a bit. He was glad for that agreement though. It was a step forward. He hoped. God, he hoped.

"Thanks. I..." He shook his head. "Jesus, I keep seeing you going down," he admitted, sighing as he rubbed at his temple, trying to get himself feeling any better. "I think I went through an entire bottle of whiskey last night."

That was Daniel still waning this to be what it was before, the man he had sat and drank with when Henley left. He was still himself, he had made Daniel believe that, so he had to still be the man that had done that for Daniel as well. At least that was what he told himself.

Then came the rest of his questions, the ones he knew was skirting dangerous territory. No, that wasn't true. All of it was dangerous and he was the one that could take the blows if they upset Dylan.

"Just curious and all... Is this like your normal way of showing us all who and what you are now?"

Nope, there was no jealousy there. Just wanting to know if Jack was turning hot babe for Dylan. That was all. Or being made to shoot people. Or... Nope, he's not being a damned jealous brat. Not at all.

"You should've called me up." He could still drink, even if he didn't particularly need it now and probably, unfortunately, wouldn't have given many a fuck about Daniel's upset. He probably would have been just as pleased by it as he had Daniel unloading his guts into the trash can after he'd pretended to leave.

Rather than explain that, however, he just let the statement stop there and arched his eyebrows at Daniel's question. "Which part? The part where I made you shoot me? Or the part where we fucked?"

He glanced almost leeringly down at Daniel's crotch. Never mind the fact that he figured he already knew what Daniel was asking one way or the other. He wanted to hear him say it.

He just looked at Dylan then, giving him a look. "Yeah, I'll get right on that," he said, knowing he wouldn't. Not in those moments when he was staring at anything but that bullet still laying on the windowsill in his room. It had torn him up, and the whiskey hadn't done much to fix anything.

Yeah, he figured he'd ask. He wanted him to say it. Like the begging.

So instead he folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wall. Was he using his body to look cute while trying to figure out an answer to make that wouldn't make him sound pathetic? He wasn't even sure if there was anything at this point.

"Doesn't matter," he said, shrugging. "Whatever. You're going to do whatever you want. Proven that. Just don't hurt Jack anymore. Seriously. He's a good kid but he's a kid." More so even than Daniel in his mind. "He doesn't deserve that."

Dylan scowled at him, rolled his eyes. Thanks so much, Daniel, for raining on his parade.

"I wasn't planning on it." In fact, he'd made it a point to stop in and say hi, last night while he'd still been feeling good. He'd taken the memory of his trying to kill him from Jack, if only because it put a damper on their relationship now that he wanted the Horsemen in his pocket rather than dead at his feet, and then left him to his own devices. "And for the record, no, I didn't do whatever I wanted to him. You're special."

Never mind the fact that technically he had, albeit not in a violent or sexual way. That didn't count. What he'd done to Jack, for Jack, was a mercy.

Daniel was learning his place, adjusting to his place in this relationship. He certainly wasn't being kind to someone that had spared his life, yet he had to know where he stood.

"I'm glad to hear that," he said, nodding. He wasn't being a martyr, far from it. Daniel was getting something from this, and it was something he wanted. Seeing Jack hurt though, it made him feel like he suspected he would if he kicked a puppy and there was nothing in that he wanted.

There was a part of him that was thankful to hear that what he and Dylan had shared wasn't a party for everyone. Yet it was those two words that left him fairly trembling, wanting to hear more of that. It was part of a desire that led to him puking over the shooting and not the body transformation. Of course, he had only been that way for a short time, with pleasure coursing through him. Longer times, things changing, who knew what it might be.

"Yeah well, I've been telling you that for a while now," he pointed out, smirking. "Glad you're listening. So you going to keep giving me that look because I asked about Jack?"

He was trying to deflect the jealousy he had felt. He felt stupid for it, but he couldn't change how he felt after that.

"So then, what now? Do we just go back to building up a show or has life changed with you?" Changed, not different. Just changed.

"Depends, you gonna keep being jealous?" he countered. Yes, he knew Daniel was jealous and yes, he could practically smell that stab of need, and if Daniel was going to continue to push his buttons, refuse to play along, he'd use all of it against him. Maybe he would anyway, just for shits and giggles. There still was the matter of all the questions he wanted answered, after all.

If he went that route, however, it would come in time. For now, he shrugged at his next question. "If you wanna, I'm not gonna stop you. I'm planning on getting us home eventually -- " Or running this place, one or the other. " -- but it's gonna be messy. You already said you didn't want any of that."

"Maybe." It was honest, at there was that. "Trust me, I'm not trying to be jealous. Though being jealous, I'll keep working harder to be special," he pointed out. "You seemed to appreciate that effort."

Saying that, he pushed away from the wall, moving a step closer. "An effort I am willing to exercise just to show how hard I'm willing to work." Yet he stopped, because that statement made him second guess his offer.

"Okay. That reads an awful lot like a dismissal." Not asking if it was, but leaving that out there. "Suppose you've got better things to do then."

Dylan took a step forward, himself, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards. Oh, Daniel wouldn't appreciate the exercise he wanted to make him engage in. Well. Maybe he would in the end, maybe he'd get over it all as easily as he had everything else barring the shooting when he finally took him, but.

That made the idea all that much more appealing. Doubly so, when Daniel started bitching. Maybe he'd just have to go for it sooner rather than later, as punishment, as pleasure. He wanted both.

For the time being, though, he simply rolled his eyes. "If it was a dismissal, I wouldn't be hanging around. Or you wouldn't be here. One or the other." If it was a dismissal, he would have killed Daniel last night. He wouldn't be fantasizing about fucking him around and then just fucking him now.

Daniel glanced back down the hallway, considering his options. Well, if Dylan wanted to hurt him, he would do it one way or another. That meant he couldn't not take the chance.

He moved in suddenly, fingers curling into the front of Dylan's shirt and leaning up, trying to claim his mouth as he could. Wanting to kiss him hard, to press himself warm and eager to the other man's body.

It wasn't a dismissal, and it made it perfectly clear what Daniel was thinking, and how he felt about the jealousy and how much he wanted more than the one night, just that single time they'd shared.

Dylan darted in to meet him, one hand going to his waist as their lips met. He held him in the kiss for a moment, mouth just as wanting on his, and then, just as abruptly and before he lost his nerve or focus, whichever, he pulled away. "Not yet. I wanna ... "

He raked his tongue over his teeth, teasing at Daniel's lips in the process, too, as close as he still was, and then, magic backing his words, he continued with. "Why don't you go take a walk through the city, Daniel."

Another brief but no less violent a kiss followed, just so Daniel wouldn't think he didn't have plans. This was going to be good. For both of them., albeit probably not necessarily right away for Daniel. He wanted to exercise? Oh, Dylan would make him run laps before reward.

Even without the instant shcok of what had happened the night before, Dylan still tasted good. Damn but he tasted good, and it was like a balm for the headache of his hangover.

Damn but he wanted more. He wanted to climb Dylan like a tree. He wanted to actually bend over a bed and ask for more.

Yet he suddenly wanted a walk. "Dammit," he muttered, realizing what was going on. Yet he backed away after that second kiss, sighing. Licking his lips, nodding.

"Right. Going for a walk, Dylan. See you later then," he said, making it sound like the promise it was.

"I'll catch up," Dylan promised, unable to help the feral grin that tugged at his lips as Daniel moved away, hungry and thrilled and malicious.

It didn't fade until Daniel was gone, and then he set into wait, propping himself against the wall Daniel had vacated a moment before, his arms folded over his chest. He managed to count off a minute or two before his impatience overtook him, and then he was headed for the city himself, dropping the vampire shift effortlessly, if only for the time being, so he didn't end up on fire. Thankfully, the power in his voice had nothing to do with what he'd made himself with his new power. If it had -- well, that would have made things difficult.

He was grateful he kept his own magic, the power he'd had even before his deal, too, and regardless of what form he took, and he pulled it around himself like a shroud as he stalked Daniel. He kept his distance for some time, just watching him, building anticipation for the both of them, then when his patience had reached a limit a second time, cut down an alley between two buildings to get in front of him. He ended up on one end of the marketplace as Daniel entered the other, and deeming this a good distance for a test, found somewhere to lean nearby.

He took a breath, blinked, and all at once, his eyes were golden and sharp, lidless and wide, a hawk's eyes rather than his own so he could see his face in startling detail. That done and with another cruel smile, he wound power into his words, visualized them wrapping around Daniel, and murmured, "Fantasize about riding me like you did last night. Get wet for me again."

He wouldn't be able to hear him at this distance, wouldn't be able to see him even if he wasn't hiding in the illusion, but that was the point. He wanted to see how far he could reach with his power and how Daniel's body would translate the order if it did affect him. How eager was he? Would he just end up hard, would that porn star pussy make a repeat appearance or would his body go all the way and gift him the tits again, too, and in broad daylight, this time, much as he hadn't wanted that the other night?

Daniel nodded, turning and heading out through the city. There was a part of him that waited, expecting his desires to change the further he got from Dylan. He thought maybe it was just being near the man, the basic acts of pheremones, or the sound of his voice. Something, anything, that wasn't his own base desires for more... even if it meant changing, being taken, offering himself.

So he took his time, hoping to at least sober up so the world might stop that bit of spinning. He made his way down to the market, just looking things over. It was in front of a stall showing silken scarves, slips of underthings and lots of lace and frills that thoughts of himself in such things came to mind. If Dylan wanted him with tits and a tight hole to fuck, did he want silk and lace as well?

It was that thought Daniel thought that left him hard, almost so quickly it was painful. Yet the thoughts didn't stop there. He imagined kneeling over Dylan, staring down at his bare chest beneath him, his own legs spread wide over the other man's thighs. Bouncing on him, riding him hard and fast as Daniel reached down, nimble fingers playing over his clit, making Danny moan and writhe, rocking harder.

The hot, delicious thought of how good that would feel, to watch Dylan's face as he came, came to a halt when fantasy started becoming reality.

Thick, hard flesh melted, deflating, leaving him gasping, struggling to stay on his feet. Changing flesh brushed along his fly, catching as it shrank back, making him cry out. People turned to watch and he made a soft, strangled sound, moving to try and get around to the side of the booth, inadvertently moving closer to where Dylan was hiding.

Even as he felt his body shifting, balls drawing up hard, tight, like he was about to come, and then going deeper and making him whimper.

The gentle pain though, the weird sensation of denim hard against molding flesh, all of it did nothing to stop his thoughts though. Imagining Dylan's thick cock bucking up into him, strong hands holding his hips so that every thrust slammed hard into Daniel, making his tits bounce with every perfect slam of body to body.

Maybe it was that thought in the fantasy that made Daniel's humiliation worse. This time, with his tailored tee shirt on, it was painful as flesh thrust out, hard nipples dragged against soft cotton. There was no way to hide them wearing the fitted shirt he'd put on for Dylan's benefit, nor could he hide the way his nipples were so hard they were likely going to burst out of the fabric any minute.

Moaning, the constant pressure of fabric to sensitive skin leaving him wanting so much more. Unable to stop himself, one hand moving as if to cover his breast, and yet possibly visible to Dylan that he was rubbing the peak even as his other hand dropped down to his crotch, fingers able to feel the moisture through the denim as he pressed hard against where his clit was behind the zipper.

He watched Daniel's face, Daniel's crotch, all of his little reactions, taking all of it in as the command took effect and he was all at once hard, then wet, then more. It was enough to rouse his own cock, his own length growing hard in the jeans he's put on this morning, as he watched and, more than that, fantasized himself as Daniel changed. God, yeah, that was -- he could just give up on all of this, right now. He wanted to, wanted to forget it all and take him on top of one of the stall counters, for all the city to see. He wanted his cock in him, Daniel tight and wet around him, and --

Biting down on his lower lip, he forced himself to stop, stop thinking about it, shook his head hard. No. Much as he wanted Daniel, right fucking now, he still had more torture to put him through, first. More torture to put the both of them through, apparently, if his own, suddenly aching cock was an indication. Fuck. He'd have to content himself with soon -- and he'd have to remember to have Daniel fucking strip before he changed him again, because Goddamn it, he'd missed that show, that change to his whims again, thanks to all the clothing.

Next time.

Pushing the thoughts away, hard as it was (hard as he was, fuck, did he mention that?), he let out a faint, trembling breath. Then, more power backing his words, more power pushed in Daniel's direction, he ordered, "Every time you try and jack off, you're going to lose some of your humanity physically and wind yourself up more. You can't get yourself off. You need me. You need to find me, convince me to fuck you." He was pretty sure he wouldn't have any more a problem fucking a monster than he would a man with a cunt, but he wanted to see what Daniel would say, do to convince him. He wanted to see how long it would take him to try and find him and how far he would fall in the process. "That's the only way any of it's gonna stop."

Danny was entirely unaware that anyone was watching him. Not that he wasn't aware that they could be, but that wash of lust that poured over him and left him sinking to the ground, panting as he rubbed against the crotch of his jeans, it was enough he didn't care. About anything but finding release. He had gotten to this point, thinking about Dylan fucking him until he couldn't stand up and he couldn't even find it in himself to push himself to his feet to seek him out.

Later, later he would find Dylan. When he wasn't tremble with need, when he had felt something, even just his own fingers, inside of himself. Just anything to take the edge off, to let him breathe without wanting nothing more than to inhale Dylan's scent while being screwed senseless.

Shifting to get his jeans undone, pushing his fingers down past the zipper with a groan. God, that was a start, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more, shifting, hips lifting, sliding fingers down over the landing strip of hair, pushing down until his lower lips parted and his fingers delved down and against the throb of his clit.

Having no idea the words that pressed down on him, the magic that bound him even as his other hand went up and under his shirt, seeking out that tight peak, pinching it so that he had to bite back a sharp sound, biting the inside of his lip to try and keep himself silent.

Despite his best intentions, despite the fact that Dylan planned on making Daniel play hide and seek, with the added bonus of growing lust and other, horrific physical changes, he shifted closer to Daniel as he started to touch himself in earnest. He wanted to watch that, despite the fact that Daniel would never be able to get himself off, just as much as he wanted to see what horrors his body or subconscious or whatever had in store for him in reaction to the magic. It helped his initial intent that he kept the illusion pulled around him, but it did nothing for his own arousal, getting this close to him.

Maybe just a little for them both. Just a little.

Lowering himself to the ground next to him, still unseen, he reached out, fingers pressing against a dampness he could feel through the barrier of denim, dragging along it slowly. And as he did so, he murmured, "That won't be enough to get you off, but feel it. Feel me. Let it add to you losing yourself and how much of a disappointment it's gonna be when you realize you can't get relief. How much you need me."

He pulled his hand back, that said, palm pressing now against his groin, cupping his own erection, fingers pressing her and there. He jerked into his own hand, groaning, and then forced himself to pull away. Much as he wanted to touch himself in time to Daniel's writhing, just -- no. He needed to be ready for him, when he let him catch him. He wanted to be. He wanted to be inside him as much as Daniel wanted it, no magic needed, and his cock jumped at the thought. Or at the absence of his hand. Either or.

A heavy exhale followed, and then coaxingly, words ever backed by power, he said, "C'mmon, Daniel. Start changing for me."

Daniel didn't want to just accept this was normal. Not the fact that his body was practically betraying him with a desperate need to be fucked. Not even to go ass up and getting his ass pounded, something he had never done and ever thought to do, but his body accepting this. Wanting this. Wanting to have that slick pussy between his legs. The tits scared him more than that, and maybe it was a self realization of comments about his manhood and his abilities. Whatever it was, he found himself not questioning the changes when he thought about Dylan fucking him, telling him he was special. Combined they left him wanting to accept the chances, wanting to accept he could be Daniel and being this wanton slut that opened his legs for the most powerful person he knew and begged to be fucked.

It shouldn't be normal to be writhing on the ground behind a market stall, hand in his pants trying to force his fingers into his pussy and tugging at one nipple so hard he kept whimpering. It shouldn't be normal to feel phantom touches that weren't there, of a man he was fantasizing about making him come over and over again on his cock. None of it should be normal and yet his mind wanted it. His body craved it. He'd been kidnapped to a foreign land. He'd seen creatures that didn't exist. Was this so weird?

It was but he didn't want to admit that, didn't want to make it stop.

Even when he imagined, though he imagined, that fleeting touch. His hips bucked, trying to grind himself against a hand that wasn't there. It never occurred to him it was Dylan, there, teasing him. All that time he assumed it was his own mind.

"Please," he whispered, gasping, eyes closed tight and desperately wanting it right then and there. His fingers rubbed harder, motions half pushing his jeans down his ass, finally getting two fingers into his cunt, at least to the first knuckle, the heel of his hand grinding against his clit. Panting, fucking his hand, and yet he felt himself on that edge, so close, wanting to "fall" over the other side and come all over his hand, to feel his cunt clutch for a cock it didn't have.

Yet he rubbed, pounding himself... and nothing.

Snarling out in frustration, his hand moving from his breast and flinging outward. It was a magic he'd had for days, one that he hadn't used too much, unsure where it had come from. Lip curling, not even focusing. Just wild magic and the stall across from where he half lay, writhing in the dirt, it began to curl in on itself. Growing smaller, and not caring there was a man inside, the one running the market.

He heard a scream, others rushing forward, tearing at the magically enchanted stall even as it continued to fold in on itself. The man managed to get out a hole they made, screaming as the stall crushed his foot.

It was that scream that made Daniel jerk, almost coming back into himself as if he hadn't even been there to know what was going on. Yet he had, and he had done that in his anger at being unable to get off. He had begged for Jack to be safe, not to hurt others, and yet it wasn't taking much to take apart a man that had spent his life doing things for his own needs, whatever they were at the time.

Dylan glanced at the stall, briefly, then back to Daniel, curious? Was that adrenaline and disappointment-fueled magic, their original magic, back before he'd made his deal? Or was that something Daniel had manifested just now, his body thinking power equated to being monstrous? Either way, it wasn't quite was he was looking for, even if it was interesting. Still, though, it would earn Daniel a little something for the effort -- and maybe to make him want to make a second attempt at getting himself off.

That in mind and Daniel bare now, he reached to touch him again, fingers skating down that line of coarse hair, teasing. He kept that up briefly, maddeningly, and then pushed lower, fingers pressing into his clit, massaging it. He managed to gather the will to pull his fingers back again after a moment and before Daniel could get his release, though not without a sound, part disappointment, part need slipping out of him. Who could keep this up the longest, he wondered?

"I was hoping for something a little more ... " He raked his tongue over his teeth. And then continued, more magic in his voice, always magic. "Fangs, claws, fucking wings, whatever. Try again."

To get himself off, to be as much a beast, a thing, as hideous in his beauty physically as he was apparently capable of mentally as Dylan broke him down.

The city of Teleios had once gifted him with being able to shift things shape and he had used it then, trying to make Dylan happy. After their talks about not hurting Jack, not being forced to hurt others, that feeling of doing something monsterous had manifested in him acting and reacting to the lust in his body.

Yet there was no relief, no contentment in what he had done. Even if it meant that no one was paying the least bit of attention to a half dressed man, one breast bared and his pants around the tops of his thighs to give him better access to his pussy.

He didn't have much time to think about it though. Not when there was a new burst of pleasure coursing through him though his hands were at his sides, clutching at the grass beneath him.

"Yes. Fuck, god, that's it," he moaned, not sure if he was imagining it, was Dylan even there? He didn't know, but he knew that it felt good and he was so close, and right as he was about to come...

It ended.

Daniel roared, the sound rough and hard and desperate as he clawed up dirt and grass. Not tore it up, clawed it up. His hands, cherished and protected as they were his skill and his life and his magic, they now bore sharp, curved claws that tipped every finger. Acting like a monster in nearly killing a man wasn't enough. Now he looked it with midnight black claws that weren't even close to being human, much more like that seen in horror movies, far removed even from something animalistic, marring hands that had always been well cared for and manicured.

Now it was a scream Daniel gave, staring at his hands even as the breasts shrank in his shock, the lust dying for a moment at claws that would likely tear him up if he tried to pleasure himself again.

"Good," Dylan purred, darting down to flick his tongue over what remained of one of Daniel's nipples, hoping to wind him up again, to pull the lust back to a fevered haze. And assuming that didn't work, he pushed him verbally as he pulled back. "But it's not gonna go away that easy. You still need to get yourself off. You still need me inside you. Give me the tits back. Give me more."

Daniel would have to get creative in how he tried in his desperation to get himself off. And he'd keep changing every time he tried, new features coming to a head even as he couldn't. Not without him. He wondered, too, if new wants would come with the changes, even if he hadn't ordered it so, a hunger for other things beside his cock in him as the vampire shift made him want for blood.

That would be interesting. And that would be all on Daniel, not him, despite his protests at the idea of hurting someone.

Giving over to lust was easy. Trying to give over to lust when he was bearing claws, and he was feeling spirits suckling at his breast as the skin and fat tried to sink back into his body even as he responded to that phantom touch. Wet and hot and he was making soft, confused sounds as his body tried to stop and give over to those sensations at the same time.

The result was that his mind was reeling, body bucking and shifting, trying to get away and yet wanting to touch himself more. Maybe if he could just get off it would stop. Maybe he could breath and not want to grind himself against anything and everything.

Except he had no idea how to do it with those claws. Pressing the heel of his hand against his clit, shifting and writhing, trying to just use that to get him off. It wasn't working though, feeling open and empty and wanting cock inside him for hours. No, not just a cock. Not just any cock. He wanted Dylan. Even now he knew that it would be Dylan's cock inside of him that would make this feel right.

Pressing harder, grinding himself against his palm.

The pain was sharp and sudden. He bit back a scream even as his skull split, the horns rising from just above his temple on either side of his head. Twisting, curving, curling back. For some teeth and fangs might bother them, but Danny it was his looks, his boyish good looks. And now he was turning into a demon.

"Huh, succubus," Dylan decided as the horns rose from his skull. He reached out fingers brushing along the edges of them as they broke skin, the gesture meant to be soothing, a balm for the pain. After a moment, he added, "It doesn't hurt, it feels good to change, to stop being human."

Whatever else Daniel went through now would feel good in a maddening sort of way, in the same sort of way his failed attempts at fucking himself on his hand would. It would wind him up further, new flesh and bone whatever else practically erogenous as it formed, and if he decided to go for that, that touching that might be easier? He'd keep changing just as fast as he would if he stuck strictly to very literally trying to screw himself.

Dylan's cock jumped again at the thought and he shifted, hips lifting as he tried to get some measure of friction against denim. He managed, but it wasn't what he wanted, as good as he was hoping for. He wanted what Daniel wanted, he wanted to be inside him, breasts bouncing as they filled out again, heavier this time than before now that they were both getting some measure of what they wanted, needed, perfect and pert, despite their weight, and --

Okay, forget this.

Biting down on his lower lip, he waited just a moment more, for Daniel's horns or whatever else his body felt he needed to make succubus finished growing out, and then he was shifting to stretch out over him. The illusion he'd held so tightly to before now crumbled and all at once he was visible as he reached for Daniel's hand, pulling it away from his cunt to rest at his belt. He curled Daniel's fingers around it and bucked once, needy. A part of him was hoping Daniel had developed some manner of horrible strength to go with those claws so he could disrobe him as quickly as he had the other night.

"Fuck, I need you," he breathed, leaning down to catch his mouth. "I want to be inside you."

Likely that was entirely what he was becoming. Needy, desperate, wanting the sex so badly he didn't care what he had to do for it. Whatever it took, just so long as he could have Dylan more. Constantly if he could. That definitely felt good to him, just thinking about it.

Moaning as the curl of the horns made him sigh, head rolling to one side, enjoying the sensation even as he opened his eyes. Brilliant and red around dark, midnight black pupils that were more slitted than circles. His hands ran over them, growing wetter with that touch, loving the way it felt, damn but that felt good. Almost as good as his fingers over his cunt, and a lot less dangerous.

"Dammit. Fuck. Dylan. Where are you," he groaned, not caring that his ass was covered in grass, that he was feeling like he could literally live from sucking Dylan's dick. He didn't care. Whatever he could have.

He wasn't sure if he had been there that whole time, or if he summoned him with those words. All he knew was that suddenly Dylan was there and even as he cried out at having his hand moved, he didn't even think about undoing the belt and buttons. None of that.

Claws ripped and tore at denim, being as careful as he could to not tear flesh. If he did, he would take his punishment, offer his own blood to replace what was taken. Whatever he had to so that he could have Dylan now.

"Yes! Fuck me. Dylan, I need you to fuck me hard. God, I'm so fucking wet for you. Just for you. Please, fuck me," he panted, begging even as he writhed and bucked, trying to get his legs wrapped around Dylan's hips as if he could pull that thick cock into him.

"So I noticed," he answered, hips jerking against Daniel's in turn. He couldn't help it (and for an instant, he wasn't sure if that was his own desire, something he'd done to Daniel, some kind of pheromones he'd developed in becoming a succubus, going straight to his cock), nor could he help the moan that followed as his head brushed against that tight, wet slit (the thought evaporated, he didn't care). "And Christ, you're beautiful."

Not that he wasn't before, not even with the dick and in the absence of tits, but the change he'd gone through only seemed to turn him on more. He wanted him, so much so that he could forego making him convince him to fuck him as he originally planned. So much so that without further comment, he moved a hand to one of Daniel's thighs, helping, nudging it up, around his hips or at least out of the way, and without preamble, sunk into him.

He dropped his head to his shoulder, whimpering. "Fuck. You -- God."

His hips bucked of their own accord again as the words died in his throat, and giving up on them a second time, he shifted to kiss him shakily. Distantly, he wondered if Daniel could, would feed on him, on his sex as he started moving against him frantically, fucking over any other descriptor of the act again. A part of him hoped he could. He wanted to feel that, perhaps masochistically, as much as he wanted to feel Daniel come again, and he slid a hand up to brush his chest, one horn, hoping it would help speed along one, the other, or both.

making war just for fun (for first_rule)

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