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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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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."
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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?"
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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.
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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?"
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