Torturing Balthazar

Title:Torturing Balthazar.

Author: KC Bailey

Pairing: Constantine/Balthazar

Notes: Self-indulgent sexy-times fic. Demonic aphrodisiacs, lulz. First Constantine fic, got into the fandom...uh, about sixteen hours ago.

Warnings: Everyone is OOC. Constantine is on top. I have no excuse for this other than abject horniness, beware of raging plotless-ness.

Torturing Balthazar

“I need something to teach him a lesson.” Constantine demanded, browsing the shelves of random occult items Midnite had floating around in the back of his club.

“Kill him?” Midnite suggested, although he already knew Constantine would worm his way out of that. Midnite knew the reason, too, and he was sick of Constantine being so utterly, completely dense. He was going to have to take matters into his own hands, so to speak.

“It isn't bad enough to warrant being deported.” Constantine muttered, predictably. “He's just pissing me off. Give me something to torture that slick little bastard with.” The exorcist grinned, slightly more evil than a man in his position should really be. Midnite sighed inwardly, knowing just what it was about Balthazar that was driving John nuts, and why. It was called unresolved sexual tension, and he didn't have to be a psychologist to know the cure.

“Try this. You'll need to lure him some place safe if you don't want him to die. He won't be able to fight back, take him to your place. I'm sure you can enjoy his suffering even more in the comfort of your own home.” Midnite suggested, handing John a vial with bright red, pulsing liquid moving restlessly around inside. “Put it in his drink, I guarantee it'll teach him something.” And hopefully you as well. Midnite added, as Constantine stuffed the small vial into his jacket pocket and paid for his latest trinket, grinning in triumph as he departed.

Midnite raised his pipe to his lips and smiled broadly, knowing that the trouble-magnet of an exorcist wouldn't be coming into his bar for a few days. Ah, freedom.

XxXxX

Getting Balthazar into his apartment had been sickeningly easy. He'd simply hung out there until the demon inevitably got bored and came knocking, bypassing the charms and runes carved into the doorway because technically he was invited. Or had been, once, when they were both blindingly drunk and had ended up passing out at the kitchen table. And that had only happened because Constantine had seen him flirting with a half breed bartender and dragged him back to his apartment to, in his words, protect everyone else.

So, able to easily bypass Constantine's flawed security, Balthazar let himself in and sauntered over to the table to watch Constantine eye him in annoyance, revelling in both the feeling of irking the exorcist and having those dark eyes fixated on him.

“What are you doing here, you fucking half breed?” John greeted in his customary way, sliding an empty glass across the table. Balthazar caught it smoothly and poured himself a scotch from the half empty bottle nearby, watching John watching him.

“Oh Johnny boy, don't pretend you aren't glad to see me. I came to brighten up your night, what do you say? How about an epic battle, we can beat each other bloody, it'll be wonderful.” Balthazar purred, his tone of voice suggesting they do something else entirely. John knocked back his own drink and glared, trying his best to look annoyed but secretly revelling in the knowledge that Balthazar had just taken a sizeable sip of tainted scotch and was about to learn a little lesson in humility.

“Maybe some other time. I have plans tonight.” Constantine said darkly, rising from his seat and striding over to the demon, who looked at him with his head cocked questioningly to one side, a slight frown on his perfect features.

“Oh? With who?” He demanded, not liking the thought of John prancing about LA with anyone other than him. He took another long sip of scotch, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat and beginning to feel a little light-headed. That was odd, he usually had a huge tolerance for alcohol, given his heritage. One glass of whiskey wasn't going to get him drunk, and he didn't think he could get ill.

“With you. Feeling all right?” Constantine smirked, perching on the edge of the table and lighting up a cigarette. Balthazar frowned, taking a step back. His guard was up now, clearly Constantine had done something to him and he growled, expecting at any moment to feel the sharp blossom of pain rock through him. The pain never came, though, only a wave of dizziness so strong he stumbled and dropped to his knees, everything spinning around him. He closed his eyes, curling his elegant fingers against the wooden floorboards and wondering why it felt as though he could feel every grain against his skin. Sensations flooded him – the cool of the wood against his hands, the shift here and tightness there of the expensive fabric of his suit, the scent of Constantine's cigarette smoke wrapping around him – it overpowered him and he shivered, looking up at his on again-off again enemy with wide, fire-blown pupils.

“What have you done to me?” He demanded, demonic heart pounding in his chest. Just having the spicy, smoky scent of Constantine so near was making him feel his usual lust, only this time unchecked and writhing inside him like a living thing. It was almost frightening, but when he raised his hand to his chest to try and quell the sensation even the brush of his own fingertips had his nipples hardening instantly beneath his shirt, a heavy gasp leaving his lips.

“I have no idea.” Constantine said honestly, having been expecting something else entirely. He'd thought Balthazar would be in pain, or maybe restrained somehow, paralysed or something. What he'd instead gotten was the demon on his knees, clutching at his chest and breathing heavily, tanned cheeks flushed with something that definitely wasn't pain.

“M-make it stop,” Balthazar shuddered, his words hitching as electric jolts slid up and down his spine, making him fall forwards onto hands and knees and arch helplessly. “Constantine!”

It was an odd change from hearing 'Johnny-boy', and Constantine couldn't help the rush of arousal he felt at having his name cried out in such a desperate way. He didn't know what the hell Midnite had given him, but seemed to be driving Balthazar crazy. The demon was writhing, tearing his shirt open until it hung at his shoulders and clawing at his own chest, gasping heavily. He supposed this was torture, of a kind, and that was what he'd wanted. The way Balthazar grit his teeth and cried out in frustration made that obvious enough. However, all John wanted to do now was get down there and touch the suffering demon, who was clawing at the floorboards and arching in ways John hadn't known a spine could handle.

“C-Constantine...” Balthazar managed through clenched teeth, his tail uncurling from his waist and lashing behind him like some great beast, hair ruffled and eyes smouldering brightly. “You can't leave me like this...” He moaned out, forked tongue flickering out to wet his bottom lip.

“Oh?” John raised an eyebrow at the writhing creature, who looked every bit the sensual, wanton demon he was. It was only a matter of time until he gave in, and he knew it. Torturing Balthazar was what he'd had planned for the night though, and this was actually preferable over seeing him in pain. Not that he didn't look good in pain, he looked good in almost anything.

“Don't you want me, Johnny-boy? You know I'll...I'll do anything you want, you can just...just tear me up, you know I like it...” Balthazar's voice was a broken moan as he crawled closer, tail lashing from side to side and eyes like embers. With his shirt hanging off his tanned shoulders, he knelt up between Constantine's legs where he sat on the edge of the table and reached for the exorcist's black tie, pulling him down until their lips were close enough to feel each other's breath.

“Do you want to hear me beg, Johnny?” Balthazar breathed, his forked tongue tracing Constantine's lips and his eyes half-lidded with heavy, inescapable lust.

“Yeah, I would.” Constantine replied, one hand carding through the demon's dark blonde hair to cup the back of his skull, crushing their lips together in a brutal kiss. Balthazar bit his lip and he jumped a little at the sudden sting, although it was definitely worth it when the demon got to finally taste his blood and gave the darkest, most obscene moan that John had ever heard. It spurred him on and he broke the kiss, standing and dragging Balthazar up only to throw him down with his chest pressed to the table, very pleased with the sight the gasping hell spawn made.

“I think hearing you beg would just about make my night, Balthazar.” John hissed hotly, using one hand flat on the demon's tanned back to keep him pressed down against the table while the other hand deftly stripped him. Removing his own shirt and tie, Constantine watched the demon bite his lip at the feeling of the cool table against his chest and John's hand against his back, holding him down and keeping him waiting there. He had to admit, Balthazar really was a beautiful creature. Probably the best looking demon he'd even come across. Actually, he couldn't even think of an angel who had eyes as sultry and lips and wicked as Balthazar's. He was beginning to realise that the reason the demon pissed him off so much was because he turned him on so much. He should really have seen that earlier, even Midnite seemed to have figured it out before he did – and he was usually so sharp, as well.

It didn't matter thought, not now when he had a gasping, shuddering Balthazar writhing on his kitchen table, waiting for anything he could get, looking flushed and ruffled and probably the embodiment of lust.

“I think you'll have to work to hear me beg for you, Johnny-boy...” The demon breathed, trying to turn and watch as Constantine stripped off the rest of his clothes. Growling, the exorcist pushed him back down and leant over him, chest to the demon's back, pressing their bodies so close together he could feel the feverish heat radiating from Balthazar, who gave an almost sobbed gasp at finally feeling John's pale skin against his own.

“I intend to,” Constantine informed the demon, grasping his waist with both hands and grinding against him as hard as he could. Balthazar arched up and clawed at the table, lips parted in a surprised little cry that John loved. Just grinding against the burning heat of Balthazar was heaven, and he realised the irony there. It would be so much nicer to be inside him, though, and Constantine decided that was exactly his next destination.

“Fuck me, Johnny, do it hard...” Balthazar moaned, still writhing like a snake and shivering in delight as Constantine forced one of his tanned knees up onto the table, leaving him exposed and craving the feeling of the human inside him. He didn't know what John had given him and his mind was too hazed with lust to care much anyway, all he knew was that his body needed John more than anything.

“Ready to beg yet?” Constantine asked, waiting until exactly the moment Balthazar parted his lips to reply before plunging hilt-deep into the spread demon. No lube, because Balthazar definitely had a masochistic streak and could heal anyway. It felt incredible to finally be inside the demon he'd been dancing around so long, and the shriek of pain and pleasure that had ripped from Balthazar's throat at his entrance only made it that much sweeter. That cry was definitely going to be haunting his more enjoyable dreams.

“Nhh-not yet, J-Johnny...” Balthazar managed to shudder, rocking his hips back and groaning in satisfaction at the feeling. Constantine obliged for the time being, using his grip on the demon's hips to drive firmly into the half breed in long, slow strokes, wondering how long he could keep up such an agonizing pace. Balthazar had all but collapsed on the table, one hand clawing at the table beside his head and the other beneath him, muffling his cries with the back of his hand. He wouldn't beg yet, but John knew he couldn't hold on for long, not with whatever Midnite had given him burning through his body.

“You're stubborn as ever, but you don't get off until I hear you fucking plead for it.” John hissed into Balthazar's ear, feeling the shudder his words caused ripple down the demon's spine and unable to resist licking and biting at the nape of his neck, gripping and squeezing at the base of the tail that had been wrapped around one of his thighs.

“Unhh...Johnny...” Balthazar panted back, unable to form a coherent sentence as the pace sped up and Constantine reached around his hip to squeeze the base of the demon's cock in a firm grip, stopping the half breed from reaching release. “L-let me...” Balthazar whimpered, almost up to pleading but not quite there yet. Wanting to see his eyes when he finally did give in and start begging, Constantine gripped his bent knee and used it to move him onto his back on the table, plunging back into the pliant body in front of him as soon as Balthazar was in position. It made the demon arch up again, chest heaving and head lashing from side to side, reaching up almost helplessly to grasp Constantine's shoulders.

“Maybe a little rougher would work better for you.” John decided aloud, making sure he had a firm grip to stop Balthazar reaching completion before leaning over him on the table, propping himself up on one hand next to the half breed's head. Balthazar looked up at him with burning, lust-glazed eyes and surged up for a kiss, crying out into it when Constantine began to pound into him in earnest. It was almost brutal and Balthazar loved it, wrapping one tanned leg around John's back and clinging to him as though his life depended on it.

It was a valiant effort, Constantine noted, but even Balthazar had to give in eventually. When it became too much and he could bear it no longer, the demon locked eyes with Constantine, his own still glowing, and kept his teeth clenched as he shakily gasped out the words John wanted to hear.

“Please, Johnny, please, I can't...I can't bear it any more, I'll do anything, please-!” Balthazar shrieked, throwing his head back and giving the most perfect, ragged scream John had ever heard when the exorcist loosed his fist a little and pumped it up and down in three quick, firm motions, bringing Balthazar to release. His whole body arched like a bow and he shuddered violently until he was spent, the sight of the powerful demon collapsing boneless beneath him dragging Constantine over the edge as well. He snarled his own release and gave a satisfied smirk as he felt it rush out against Balthazar's burning insides, the demon giving an exhausted little groan from where he lay, barely clinging to consciousness. Had it been anyone or anywhere else, Balthazar would have dragged himself back and left, but since it was Johnny-boy and he was safe and sound in the most well-warded apartment in LA...

Constantine lay down on the table next to Balthazar as he felt the demon pass out with a soft breath, the exorcist staring up at the ceiling with a wicked Cheshire cat grin on his face. He dearly needed a cigarette and he liked the cliché that would cause, but he really couldn't move yet. Besides, Balthazar's tanned and slightly smaller frame next to him radiated heat and it would probably be very comfortable right there for another few minutes, at least until the hard wood of the table made itself known. Poor Balthazar was going to have some bruises, that was for certain. Perhaps Constantine would let him sleep in the bed with him, since at the moment he was effectively a giant, unconscious hot water bottle. When he woke up they would probably have to have some kind of conversation, but for now he was content in the knowledge that he'd just made Hell's most arrogant demon beg for him.

That and the fact that he still had almost half a bottle of tainted scotch left.

XxXxX

End