A Promise is a Promise; Fandom: Constantine; Pairing: Lucifer/John Constantine;General #10/Prompt #5
Title: A Promise is a Promise
Author: fennikusu_ai
Claim: Lucifer/John Constantine
Table: General #10
Prompt: #5 Constant Reminder
Rating: M
Summary: What Lucifer wants, Lucifer gets.
Warnings: Allusion to sexual situations. Religious imagery. Language.
Word Count: 1,311.
John knew he was trouble as soon as he exited the confines of the tiled shower; the hot mist rolling after him. It was as if his lower abdomen had been dunked in ice water-something did not belong here.
Damned exorcist senses.
John stumbled to the mirror and took a peek at what was reflected in the glass. He still looked like hell, but at least he was clean. The nicotine was wreaking vengeance on his complexion though, not to mention his teeth, but addiction was addiction. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.
“John…”
The voice was inaudible, but he could hear it as clear as a bell inside his own head. The voice itself didn’t disturb him as he went through crap like that all the time; it was the tone that did him in. The intent. Like something wanted to eviscerate his soul from his body in the most painful manner possible and then do it all over again.
Refusing to be intimidated, he frowned and instead cleared more humid fog from the mirror. It turned out to a bad choice when the mirror fogged up again right under his fingers except this fog was actually hot.
“Christ!” John Constantine’s fingers backed off the glass.
Dark amused laughter bubbled up from behind him.
He’s here.
“I won’t be ignored, John. Besides, didn’t you know vanity is one of the seven deadly sins?”
The first thing John foolishly thought was that the Devil’s suit matched the white tiles of the bathroom. What was it with him and the color white? And, why did he choose to look like…that? If the Devil himself could choose his appearance, why not a young male in his twenties with rocker-length raven hair and black leather pants?
John would never understand him.
The two had met before of course. Down below, nineteen years ago, where John had been the newest meat on the menu; a sweet succulent suicide who couldn’t take the sufferings life had so graciously meted out to him. Amidst all the soot, fire, and minions with their long jagged nails and ferocious howls; the white-suited man had approached him with a Satanic smile on his lips. There was no question of who it was.
Thankfully, John had been ripped away before anything bad happened…as if being sent to hell hadn’t been bad enough. He had been resuscitated in that damned ambulance, and he had never been so glad to be hooked up in restraints to an IV in his life.
Now, here he was in front of him again.
John couldn’t make his vocal chords work for a moment. What he said after he found his voice was actually quite pedestrian. “What the fuck are you doing here for?”
For once, the bastard gave him a straight answer. “I’m getting bored waiting around for you. So I decided to…visit.”
John stiffened. “What makes you think I’m going?”
“Oh, you’re going all right,” the fiend responded huskily. “You know it too.”
It wasn’t fair. Just last night he had taken down a record of four of them. One demon was going to attack an older brother holding his baby sister for Christ’s sake. Didn’t that mean…anything up there?
“Not yet,” he replied mechanically. “There’s still time. I’ve got at least another forty years.”
The Devil chuckled a private laugh.
“What the fuck’s so funny?” John could feel his anger rise.
“Never mind. I prefer to let poor unfortunates find out for themselves.”
Letting the knowledge hang over John’s head like a sword, Lucifer turned his attention to other things. Like John himself. “Nice look, sonny. It’s so natural.”
Thank God that he had wrapped a towel around his waist. Although that towel could be removed in an instant if it was Satan’s desire.
John shivered as the being advanced on him. Lucifer possessed…a disturbing charisma. He could feel it radiate throughout the room in scarlet hot waves. Not waves of true love and tenderness, but unsaid promises of raw passion and ferocious fucking. Self-gratification. Did Lucifer’s taste run to men? John Constantine didn’t know. The sexual orientation of the Devil hadn’t been in his training.
“Thinking of fucking a demon, sonny? Oh, wait. You do. Those succubi are so tempting, aren’t they? Isn’t Ellie ravishing?”
“Shut up!” John turned his back and stomped over back towards the mirror.
Suddenly, Lucifer’s tone turned bitter. “You humans take liberties whenever you feel like it. You can screw a demoness and feel no shame or even a meaningless harlot for two bucks. What if I told you that I want to fuck an exorcist, hmm? It’s been so long…”
“Get the hell out of my apartment.” John’s tone was flat. He was tired of putting up with these shitty games.
“I wasn’t asking nicely, John. What I want…I take. Not so different from you, am I, John?”
It was going to happen. He was serious. The hairs on the back of John’s neck were threateningly stiff…as stiff as he expected Lucifer to be. Already, his mind was receiving visual stimuli of being fucked against the bathroom wall; his blood spilling on the white tiles with his screams echoing through the apartment and somehow being made to enjoy it just because the demon in question was a sick sadistic son of a bitch.
He was drawing closer.
Fight or surrender. Fight or surrender…
Without thinking, John picked up the glass that was nestled by the faucet of the sink and threw it full force at the man in white. Lucifer reacted by raising his hand where the glass shattered on command without so much as grazing him. That same hand then jumped to Constantine’s throat and suddenly John found himself against the wall with a very irritated Devil near strangling him.
“Didn’t think you’d fight, sonny,” he said matter-of-factly.
The terrycloth towel was now in a heap on the floor. John was now naked, defenseless, and rapidly running out of air. “Damn it, Lu…” he broke off as he couldn’t finish the accursed name.
“Lu?” The fiend sounded amused. “Lu who?”
Constantine gagged as his vision simultaneously went blurry.
He wouldn’t. That act would violate so many rules…
Then, John realized his position. One, he was hypocrite as he had never followed the rules and two, the man upstairs didn’t even care about him anymore as a result of that philosophy. If Lucifer decided to kill him, he probably could…in theory.
All at once, there was clean air when Lucifer or rather “Lu” let him drop into a nude heap. The bruising fingers had finally been removed and John gasped as he mercifully breathed albeit with much coughing.
“Lu. I rather like that name.” The compassionless prick smiled down at the suffering human.
“I didn’t say it to please you, asshole. I physically couldn’t breathe,” John managed to retort.
Lucifer’s smile only grew wider. “See you later, John.” With that, he turned his back.
John was now made beyond all reason that he was such an easy amusement for Lucifer. “Aren’t you going to…take me?” The words could have been taken from a trashy romance novel.
“Not yet. But, I would sleep with one eye open. Sweet dreams, John,” The Devil said smoothly as he made his exit without so much at looking at him.
John growled as he punched the floor with his bare fist where he was rewarded by his knuckle breaking open. The blood dripped on the floor-six droplets.
Lu however did claim his prize in exactly six days and six hours. Everything had to be symbolic with him. When red hot hands had swept under the covers and burned Constantine’s pale skin crimson leaving an everlasting mark that would be a constant reminder of this night.
He didn’t even struggle as the constant pain slowly eclipsed a pleasure-induced haze.