The Next Task: Chapter 2 -- (Potter/Constantine X-Over)
Title: The Next Task: Chaper 2
Characters: John Constantine/Chaz, Balthazar, Draco, Harry
Summary: Continued from the previous chapter, Balthazar gives John Constantine more information about his new task: the vanquishing of a new demon.
Warning: Bad language; demonology
Author's Notes: I take some liberty with Constantine/Hellblazer canon. For safety's sake, this is a cross between graphic novel canon and the movie.
Rating: PG-13
Written for: jamie2109's AWDT
Prompt: "I like your pants around your feet."
Word Count: 2603
Now beta'd by the wonderful diclaire!!! (:huggz:)
"He's here, isn't he?"
"He's here, isn't he?"
Chaz is awake when I come in from the balcony with Balthazar hot on my heels. He sits naked on my bed, wrapped in the duvet almost like a mummy would be. The look in the young boy's eyes tells me that feigning ignorance is the best route to take; he can't see Balthazar until Balthazar wants him to be seen.
"Who's here?"
There's a drawn-out silence before he answers. "Balthazar."
I walk to my dresser, pulling out one of the drawers and retrieving a pair of socks. I barely manage to make it to the edge of the bed to put on the socks before Chaz has crawled up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. When his lips brush against my back, a shiver runs up and down my spine. I can see Balthazar leering at me with that lecherous grin of his.
"You always lie to me," he whispers against my skin.
"Not always."
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
Chaz pulls away, laying back down on the bed. His nipples peek out from the covers as he rest his hands behind his head. I feel his foot nudging my thigh and his gaze boring into me.
"Care to give the demon a show, first?" he asks, biting his bottom lip.
Oh, the things we would be doing right now, were Balthazar not waiting. Notice I didn't say 'watching'. He can watch all he likes -- he has before. When it comes to me fucking guys, the demon seems to get voyeuristic tendencies. Hell, I've caught the beast mimicking street hustlers and club kids in an attempt to get me to fuck him. The guise he normally wears -- one of an immaculate Englishman with a head of slicked-back wavy tresses, designer Armani suits, and a smile that could melt stone -- is shaggable enough. But I've long-since seen his true essence... and it's hardly erection inducing, believe me. Besides, if I can resist the tempting sixteen-year-old in my bed right now, I should have no problems keeping my cock away from the six-thousand-year-old monster.
I stand and begin to buckle the belt of my trousers, my eyes still fixated on Chaz.
"You know, I like your pants around your feet," he says with a completely straight face. "I prefer it there than around your waist, actually."
There's an honesty about the kid that I like -- really like. It's why I keep him around. Well, that and he's a kick-arse demonologist. I throw myself on him and bury my face in the crook of his neck, sucking on his skin, marking him as mine. He instinctively wraps his legs around me (I've trained him well) and his mouth opens when my lips meet his, letting my tongue encroach him like an invading army. It's when he drags his nails along my back that I almost give in; my breath hitches and I pull back. His face tries to follow, his mouth still agape. His expression is pure, unbridled hunger and, for a moment, I think to hell with Balthazar's latest task.
"Ahem," Balthazar calls from the corner of the room.
I look back to see him tapping a finger on his expensive Rolex.
"As much as I love corrupting the young and angelic, I really must insist..."
"Don't go," Chaz whispers in my ear. The heat of his breath travels directly to my crotch. When he feels my hard on flex on his stomach, he pulls me closer to him, grinding into me. "Stay here and fuck me three ways to Sunday."
Damn. The kid makes one helluva argument.
I lean into his embrace, delivering one final, mouth-watering kiss before pulling myself away and off of the bed.
"I gotta go," I reply, walking to my closet and pulling out a jumper. "I'll be back, though."
Chaz lifts himself on his elbows and sneers. "I won't be here."
"Yeah, you will."
I close the door behind me as I leave the room with Balthazar, narrowly missing being struck by the clock-radio that Chaz hurled at me. That's the fourth one this month; the kid's almost getting too expensive to keep. Balthazar finds this all amusing.
"My, my, my," he laughs as we walk down the hallway. "He is quite the firecracker, no? He would have made your Lord quite the arch-angel."
"He's not 'my' Lord, Balthie," I remind him, grabbing my keys and my black leather trench coat from the table by the front door.
Balthazar opens the door, bows slightly, and makes a rather grand sweeping movement with his arm. "After you, m'dear."
Man, would I love to shove that shite-eating grin down his throat.
I don't need to look up to know that Chaz is watching me walk down the sidewalk and around the corner. For a brief moment, I actually worry that he won't be there when I get back. Before I can even begin to wonder how I might feel about that, Balthazar continues his 'de-briefing' from earlier.
"As I said before, Lucifer offered this new demon the chance to serve Him, directly. Several low-class ruḥins and lilins were even used to... spread the word of a new, powerful demon that even less adept sorcerers could conjure."
In ancient times, according to rabbinical demonology, ruhins (evil spirits) and lilins (night spirits) were 'bringers of harm'. Each one would be ascribed a certain ailment or disease and would be sent to wreck havoc on the earth and its inhabitants. Back then, men of God could get rid of them with prayer and talismans. Then, magic became prevalent and the beasts could scarcely make a child succumb to hunger let alone scorch the earth with disease and famine. Science would make ruhins and lilins even less fearsome. Now, they are little more than messengers, often used to feed information to wayward wizards about new demon-majeurs ready to by summoned. Even newly-christened mages like Chaz could repel a typical ruhin demon and break little sweat doing it.
"That all sounds very interesting," I say, sardonically. "But what does this have to do with me? And, if your boss wants this new demon on his own personal payroll, why are you bothering to get me involved?"
Balthazar stops and looks around. For the first time in years, I can see how nervous he is. Or, at least, I can see how nervous he wants me to believe he is -- I've fallen for that trick of his once and it nearly cost me my life. As abruptly as his nervous mien appeared, it morphs into an indignant scowl.
"I deserve to be top dog in the kennel," Balthazar whispers, little more than a hiss. "Not some poof of an upstart, too dim-witted to beat a fuckin' seventeen-year-old."
Then it dawns on me. "You're jealous!"
I start laughing. It takes me a moment to realize I'm being watched by three blokes who must find it odd that I'm out this late, walking towards the business district of London, and talking to myself. Nervous, they decide to cross the street rather than pass by me, directly. To Balthazar's credit, he manages to look unconcerned.
"Hardly," he says as we continue our journey.
"Well, where are we off to know, then?" I ask.
"We have to find Harry Potter."
"The seventeen-year-old who defeated the demon before?"
Balthazar's lips curl into a leer. "Don't get excited, John. He's no longer seventeen. In fact, I dare say he's far too old for you, now."
"Sod off," I mutter, defensively. But, in all honesty, I was rather looking forward to checking out some seventeen-year-old boy who managed to do away with a demon that Satan, Himself, admires.
"Harry Potter isn't the easiest soul to find. So, instead we'll find the next-best-thing: the bloke who can find him."
"And who might that be?"
Balthazar's narrowed eyes meet mine, their eerie candescence sending a rush of cold that chills me to my very bones. Finally, after what seems an eternity, he answers my question.
"Draco Malfoy."
§
Characters: John Constantine/Chaz, Balthazar, Draco, Harry
Summary: Continued from the previous chapter, Balthazar gives John Constantine more information about his new task: the vanquishing of a new demon.
Warning: Bad language; demonology
Author's Notes: I take some liberty with Constantine/Hellblazer canon. For safety's sake, this is a cross between graphic novel canon and the movie.
Rating: PG-13
Written for: jamie2109's AWDT
Prompt: "I like your pants around your feet."
Word Count: 2603
Now beta'd by the wonderful diclaire!!! (:huggz:)
"He's here, isn't he?"
"He's here, isn't he?"
Chaz is awake when I come in from the balcony with Balthazar hot on my heels. He sits naked on my bed, wrapped in the duvet almost like a mummy would be. The look in the young boy's eyes tells me that feigning ignorance is the best route to take; he can't see Balthazar until Balthazar wants him to be seen.
"Who's here?"
There's a drawn-out silence before he answers. "Balthazar."
I walk to my dresser, pulling out one of the drawers and retrieving a pair of socks. I barely manage to make it to the edge of the bed to put on the socks before Chaz has crawled up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. When his lips brush against my back, a shiver runs up and down my spine. I can see Balthazar leering at me with that lecherous grin of his.
"You always lie to me," he whispers against my skin.
"Not always."
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
Chaz pulls away, laying back down on the bed. His nipples peek out from the covers as he rest his hands behind his head. I feel his foot nudging my thigh and his gaze boring into me.
"Care to give the demon a show, first?" he asks, biting his bottom lip.
Oh, the things we would be doing right now, were Balthazar not waiting. Notice I didn't say 'watching'. He can watch all he likes -- he has before. When it comes to me fucking guys, the demon seems to get voyeuristic tendencies. Hell, I've caught the beast mimicking street hustlers and club kids in an attempt to get me to fuck him. The guise he normally wears -- one of an immaculate Englishman with a head of slicked-back wavy tresses, designer Armani suits, and a smile that could melt stone -- is shaggable enough. But I've long-since seen his true essence... and it's hardly erection inducing, believe me. Besides, if I can resist the tempting sixteen-year-old in my bed right now, I should have no problems keeping my cock away from the six-thousand-year-old monster.
I stand and begin to buckle the belt of my trousers, my eyes still fixated on Chaz.
"You know, I like your pants around your feet," he says with a completely straight face. "I prefer it there than around your waist, actually."
There's an honesty about the kid that I like -- really like. It's why I keep him around. Well, that and he's a kick-arse demonologist. I throw myself on him and bury my face in the crook of his neck, sucking on his skin, marking him as mine. He instinctively wraps his legs around me (I've trained him well) and his mouth opens when my lips meet his, letting my tongue encroach him like an invading army. It's when he drags his nails along my back that I almost give in; my breath hitches and I pull back. His face tries to follow, his mouth still agape. His expression is pure, unbridled hunger and, for a moment, I think to hell with Balthazar's latest task.
"Ahem," Balthazar calls from the corner of the room.
I look back to see him tapping a finger on his expensive Rolex.
"As much as I love corrupting the young and angelic, I really must insist..."
"Don't go," Chaz whispers in my ear. The heat of his breath travels directly to my crotch. When he feels my hard on flex on his stomach, he pulls me closer to him, grinding into me. "Stay here and fuck me three ways to Sunday."
Damn. The kid makes one helluva argument.
I lean into his embrace, delivering one final, mouth-watering kiss before pulling myself away and off of the bed.
"I gotta go," I reply, walking to my closet and pulling out a jumper. "I'll be back, though."
Chaz lifts himself on his elbows and sneers. "I won't be here."
"Yeah, you will."
I close the door behind me as I leave the room with Balthazar, narrowly missing being struck by the clock-radio that Chaz hurled at me. That's the fourth one this month; the kid's almost getting too expensive to keep. Balthazar finds this all amusing.
"My, my, my," he laughs as we walk down the hallway. "He is quite the firecracker, no? He would have made your Lord quite the arch-angel."
"He's not 'my' Lord, Balthie," I remind him, grabbing my keys and my black leather trench coat from the table by the front door.
Balthazar opens the door, bows slightly, and makes a rather grand sweeping movement with his arm. "After you, m'dear."
Man, would I love to shove that shite-eating grin down his throat.
I don't need to look up to know that Chaz is watching me walk down the sidewalk and around the corner. For a brief moment, I actually worry that he won't be there when I get back. Before I can even begin to wonder how I might feel about that, Balthazar continues his 'de-briefing' from earlier.
"As I said before, Lucifer offered this new demon the chance to serve Him, directly. Several low-class ruḥins and lilins were even used to... spread the word of a new, powerful demon that even less adept sorcerers could conjure."
In ancient times, according to rabbinical demonology, ruhins (evil spirits) and lilins (night spirits) were 'bringers of harm'. Each one would be ascribed a certain ailment or disease and would be sent to wreck havoc on the earth and its inhabitants. Back then, men of God could get rid of them with prayer and talismans. Then, magic became prevalent and the beasts could scarcely make a child succumb to hunger let alone scorch the earth with disease and famine. Science would make ruhins and lilins even less fearsome. Now, they are little more than messengers, often used to feed information to wayward wizards about new demon-majeurs ready to by summoned. Even newly-christened mages like Chaz could repel a typical ruhin demon and break little sweat doing it.
"That all sounds very interesting," I say, sardonically. "But what does this have to do with me? And, if your boss wants this new demon on his own personal payroll, why are you bothering to get me involved?"
Balthazar stops and looks around. For the first time in years, I can see how nervous he is. Or, at least, I can see how nervous he wants me to believe he is -- I've fallen for that trick of his once and it nearly cost me my life. As abruptly as his nervous mien appeared, it morphs into an indignant scowl.
"I deserve to be top dog in the kennel," Balthazar whispers, little more than a hiss. "Not some poof of an upstart, too dim-witted to beat a fuckin' seventeen-year-old."
Then it dawns on me. "You're jealous!"
I start laughing. It takes me a moment to realize I'm being watched by three blokes who must find it odd that I'm out this late, walking towards the business district of London, and talking to myself. Nervous, they decide to cross the street rather than pass by me, directly. To Balthazar's credit, he manages to look unconcerned.
"Hardly," he says as we continue our journey.
"Well, where are we off to know, then?" I ask.
"We have to find Harry Potter."
"The seventeen-year-old who defeated the demon before?"
Balthazar's lips curl into a leer. "Don't get excited, John. He's no longer seventeen. In fact, I dare say he's far too old for you, now."
"Sod off," I mutter, defensively. But, in all honesty, I was rather looking forward to checking out some seventeen-year-old boy who managed to do away with a demon that Satan, Himself, admires.
"Harry Potter isn't the easiest soul to find. So, instead we'll find the next-best-thing: the bloke who can find him."
"And who might that be?"
Balthazar's narrowed eyes meet mine, their eerie candescence sending a rush of cold that chills me to my very bones. Finally, after what seems an eternity, he answers my question.
"Draco Malfoy."
§