Disorder Ch. 09

He sucked in a breath, pain slipping away from his chest as if he had finally been released from restricting bondage that he had not even known was present, a full breath of clean air, even if it could not have been said to be fresh, filling his lungs. Again and again, he breathed in fully and deeply, exhaustion lining his muscles even as his soul trembled in invigoration. It was just so simply good to see him there, even if he did not quite still believe in his heart that something terrible had come to pass, was over, that John was...there. Whether or not it was true did not quite matter as he finally swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he mobilised his jaw and relaxed in the knowledge that, once again, all was just as it was supposed to be.

There was a tightness in John’s face too that he could not read, smirk slowly, second by second, faltering and teasing away from strained lips, softening into a neutral line. That could have meant anything but there was nothing that Donnie did not understand in the three, long, swift strides that John took to cross the distance between them, a low growl rising up darkly from the back of his throat, the skin around his eyes crinkling on the outside corners, betraying something more.

And yet Donnie did not need to know exactly what that was and what intricacies lay beneath the surface, breaking the skin. John’s hand slid around his face, fingers curling beneath his chin and thumb brushing his cheek with a cool tenderness that, before, may have shocked him -- and yet the connection was there, simmering with hidden heat. Without thinking, he squeezed his eyelids closed, groaning quietly, no longer frozen in place and not yet willing to move either. But his brother’s thumb tickled the flutter of his eyelashes, bidding him to open his eyes again, and he could do more than to heed his call, heart leaping when he still found John to be right there before him, the apparition more solid than it had been in the beginning.

“It’s alright.”

And was it not funny how two little words could come together with such meaning, John tipping down to meet him even as he pushed up, one palm and fingers sunk into the suddenly too-soft seat cushions of the sofa. He could not get quite enough lift and urgency behind his thrust but John was right there to catch him, dropping the sceptre as his other hand snaked around to his shoulder, holding him there with a strength that should have shocked him even as the ache of rising up into half of a standing position, trapped between moments, seared through his shoulder.

His brother’s lips met his and he knew no more, parting his own eagerly into the kiss, nothing else mattering as he hovered there as if in the moment of rising, of getting up from the sofa. He’d only later come to learn that that was just where John was caught too, not quite living and not truly dead either, the intermediate interim where demons of his kind found themselves even if the very beginning of the plot had begun so very long ago. Grunting thickly, emotion rising up, Donnie kissed him fiercely, although there was still very much no question as to who was the dominant upper hand in the situation.

For, slowly, John bore him back onto the sofa, one knee up on it and the other leg stretched out behind him as if he was leveraging some kind of force to keep Donnie there, pinned and at his mercy. And it was perhaps in testament to his power and control that Donnie shivered and melted beneath him, still a part of him unsure just how much of the experience was fantasy, even though he very much now believed that the majority was a strange reality.

But he could do strange. He’d do all that was fucking strange and unholy every day until the end of his life it if meant that he could still have John right there with him, where they needed to be: together.

The kiss deepened, seemingly neither willing to break it, tongues tangling and lusts rising. Certain that Donnie was not about to go anywhere -- as if it was ever a question -- John’s hand crept around to the back of his neck, slowly as if he was not sure in himself that it was the right thing to do. And he was gentle, so much gentler than before, turning his brother’s chin up in the breaking of that kind of kiss, nipping lightly down his neck as Donnie’s voice trembled out in a moan that rang out with such a tremor to it that it was most likely a good thing indeed that he was not standing at that point.

Yet there was always time for more and that sense of time had opened up in a way that neither of the brothers could ever have dreamed of before.

Smirking lightly, John drew back, spreading two massive, feathered wings that sprouted from his shoulder blades, so very easily dwarfing his brother. Donnie sucked in a breath, chest tight for all the right reasons, raking his eyes down the black gloss of them, right down to the luxuriously tapered crimson tips as if they had been dipped by some higher power into a pool of blood. For all he knew of the world he was about to enter and learn of, they could very well have been.

And then his hand was lower, much lower, squeezing something that was so very ready to pulse back to wanton desire all over again for a much better cause this time. Gasping lightly, Donnie swallowed, ears ringing and yet his soul controlled by something more potent than drugs or alcohol or even the simply raw act of sex itself.

“You shouldn’t put that away around me, dear.”

John’s voice came out softly, more softly than he could ever have remembered hearing before, but things moved too quickly for him to keep track, clothes flying off -- just his body, actually. With the sceptre in hand, John stepped back for the briefest of moments only to strike a pose that was both powerful and amusing in its promiscuity, clothes falling away as if they had never have existed to begin with. And there he was in all his glory, coming together with his brother in the best and only way that they would have said that they knew how if they were ever questioned on it.

Of course, there was more to it than that, despite the odds being on them never, ever bringing it up together, as much as it lingered, a strengthening, driving force between them. But that was not the fact of the matter of the present time and no one needed to make a distinct point of it as John pressed his brother back into the length of the sofa, cushions shifting and getting in the way as they chuckled and kicked them aside, John even using a wing to toss one out of the way with surprising accuracy.

But the heat of the moment was in lips pressed together, tongues tickling between their mouths and lips, hungry and biting for the something more that they could now, again, have from one another. John pushed his brother’s legs back readily and Donnie groaned into his mouth as he allowed it, not understanding the why of everything but not needing too either. Maybe it was wrong to ask too many questions. The real pleasure in things was experiencing them as they happened, living even if one was dead.

And then John was inside him, the hardness of his shaft demanding entrance even if Donnie was not, that time, ready for him. He cried out and rounded his shoulders forward, forehead pressed into the crook of his brother’s neck, trembling and sweating. It was hard, harder than it had ever been before, to take him and yet he could not allow himself to stop, could not break from it, rocking and gyrating even as pain lanced through him, ardent desire trumping all else, the limits of a human body that should have been better taken care of during the course of his, rather respectable, lifetime.

The pressure eased as John’s fingers curled around his shoulders, making him look up at him without actually forcing or demanding it. Of course, there was an insistence behind the touch that Donnie bowed into instantly and yet it was all willing, putting himself through the moments of pain and strain for something that he’d, guiltily, been craving since his grief had found one more thing to focus on. The presence of his brother alone, ah, no -- now that would have denoted the love of candlelit dinner and long walks on the beach, the red and pink romance that was for couples and those who took that sort of thing seriously. No, what was between them may have been classed under the same name but it was of a different, darker ilk, the carnal lust of knowing another person so intimately, going through what they had and still not needing the softness of anything lighter and holier.

That was just as well considering what John was, the demon moaning as he ground in, teasing and stretching his brother open as he held him down only so that he could control the depth of his thrusts. Taking charge let him see that he wasn’t hurt, one of them now most certainly more breakable than then other, and their chests rose and fell in ragged unison, harsh cries of lust breaking their lips as he, patiently, seated the full length of his tool deep inside his passage. Right back where it belonged.

There could have been sweetness and light and tenderness but what they had was all of that in its own kind of way and more, bodies humping and grinding against one another as Donnie’s head finally rolled back against the arm of the sofa, relaxing and exhaling in a rush of breath, filled at long last. Such a need did not bear being spoken about in the months that had passed while he strove and struggled to keep everything going but the man behind it all was there now and could lift that burden from his shoulders too, leaving him to do what he did best in the logistics and hidden tech behind the scenes. Everything left a mark and a trace and it was his job to ensure those were concealed and wiped out wherever possible even as he accepted every last one of John’s marks onto him.

They couldn’t bear it, hissing through clenched teeth as they ground together, John’s thrusts coming with increasing urgency, desperation clawing through the sensuality of it. How something like that could come with that they would never know and neither would they honestly care to know, driving in with greater and greater force, two bodies coming together as they so very desperately needed to. Maybe it was what they had needed all along to seal the deal between them but John’s heady, guttural grunts took on a different lilt to what they had boasted before, groaning and pumping his wings in time with his thrusts, a stray feather floating off as if it had been plucked free in the thick of it.

Harder and harder, Donnie’s cock pulsed up, woefully unattended as each and every thrust sent his head spinning in the very best of ways, gasping for breath that would not quite be needed until the moment was well and met, coming to its expected dramatic conclusion. They wouldn’t have known how to stop even if they had been entirely with their senses, John gasping raggedly, eyes darkening with that demonic hue with the little, round Ouija board sitting ever so innocently in the background of the deliciously decrepit scene of sordidness.

“Fuck... Donnie...”

That was all Donnie needed to hear, a hand that was not his squeezed around his cock with a light, lustful pressure, stroking and pumping him to throbbing completion. He cried out and then John was over him, forcing his legs back and out of the way further, an arm thrust into the back of his knee. Limbs tangled and those wings came down, secluding them away from the world as the demon’s orgasm erupted within him, spilling in hot and heavy, so much more viscously potent than it had been before. Of course, that could have just been his mind assigning additional meaning to the climax of the event and emotion, head lolling back and muscles jumping down the lines of his throat, delectably tense, but Donnie could well enough fucking choose what to assign himself. Energy pulsated through him even as he spent his load, relishing in the hot, slick sensation of being filled, nothing more mattering to him than the fact that he was there, there with John.

Donnie laughed, reckless at the height of ecstasy, quads tight and back sore from holding such a position. Yet none of that mattered, nothing else mattered but in the good way. The rest of the world, completely and utterly, could go fuck themselves.

He would reconsider that thought later when he remembered all that had drawn him through the darkest of times and more would come to light but there was nothing quite like panting, heated embraces, a tongue dominating his, as they came down from their joint high, John’s wings slumping to the sides of them as if he too had been drained from the force of their passion. A demon, however, could not fail in energy so swiftly and part of it was an act, just to show his brother that, in a way, he was still the same old John he’d always been, however badly his wings shook with the urge to slice through the air, to pump and shape the air, his sceptre vibrating with the lure of power on the floor beside the sofa, all within easy reach.

They could have stayed there for hours even as seed trickled from an abused and aching hole, lips barely apart and hot breath washing against one another, panting and gasping. Their lips pulled up into half-smiles in unison, John, very lightly, resting his forehead against his brother’s, not trying to push him back but not giving any space either. And that was to be the way of it as he learned just how far he could push a mortal as a being of the other realm, fingers restless and playing across Donnie’s throat, his collarbone, the vulnerability of his clavicle.

Groaning quietly, Donnie turned his head away, struggling to draw some semblance of strength back into his limbs. In some ways, it was easier said than done and yet John gave him space to allow it, pushing himself up smoothly with his arms, which remained perfectly steady in complete contrast to just how terribly Donnie trembled, although that was not at all from fear. Why, John had not even broken a sweat but the reasons behind that, the increased stamina and much more too, would be gone through later and even demonstrated as Donnie learned all that had come to pass. For, in John’s life, he had been absent too and one brother felt it just as keenly as the other.

“What does this mean now?” Donnie said, panting heavily, pushing himself up, as much as his arms ached -- this time, pleasantly so; it was a nice change. “This... John...”

But John only straightened his back, lengthening his spine, a smirk in his eyes flaring up in a hint of crimson, lips curved up on just the one side in just the way that made Donnie groan and want to, inadvertently, crumple to the floor. It wasn’t fair that he still did that to him but the thickness of his seed in his mouth...well... It was tangible, it was there. There could no longer be any second-guessing that John was not...John.

Winking, John spread his wings up high, staring off to the side, flamboyant and wanton, his gaze sliding away as if he saw something that Donnie did not and could not. At least, not yet. That would all come together in due course and time.

“My dear Donnie...”

His smirk grew.

“This changes everything.”