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Descent of Donnie

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Mirath

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Things were, at least, a little better now that Donnie knew that John was okay. Well, that was if a demon could ever be considered to be “okay", though that was a strange enough thing to get his head around in the first place. Sure, it was a good thing that John wasn't completely dead in the sense that Donnie could never, ever, not even the once, ever see his brother again but neither was it a good thing as he was, still, regardless of anything else, very much dead. And that he'd sacrificed himself for Donnie was something that neither of them had addressed as yet, much to their detriment, most likely, but it was as it was.

Grunting, Donnie swung back and forth in his computer chair, the tall one that had made him feel more imposing than he was in reality. It had always been John who'd had that commanding, driving presence about him, towering easily with a smirk on his face. He'd come into his own, truly, in the building of their empire but it was a foolish notion indeed to expect himself to simply be John when there was so much in the business that only John could do. Turning a blind eye one-hundred-percent of the time was one of those things.

“You've got to keep on them," John had said last time he'd come to the mortal world of Donnie and other beings (as John supposedly laughingly liked to call it). “They need to be controlled, need to be kept on track. You think those idiots will know what to do without being told? Those peons think they can take power at any turn too..." His frown had deepened. “Watch them. Always watch them."

In the end, it had turned out that John had been looking in an entirely different direction, his death coming from elsewhere than within. They still didn't quite know whether John was gone or not as it had not been put out there, though there were always rumours. Sometimes Charles could pose well enough as John but there was a bit of a height difference in that one for those that knew better or when there was not the shadow of nightfall beneath the street lights to be taken into account too. Ruses were best undertaken with the lies of darkness to cover up the truth, although it was sure that, sooner or later, the truth would come out on that matter. And then Donnie would have to be more prepared than he had ever been to stand up and take the helm with the steel in his eye that John too had boasted. Some could say that he'd been practising. Others would say that he wasn't quite there yet.

Of course, he had not told Charles about all of that as yet but, well, it didn't seem like the sort of thing that he needed to know, even though it was sure enough that John was going to reveal himself at some point. Donnie frowned. The bastard had already flashed his enemies, those that were lurking and lingering after his death, seeking to get a hold on what he still very much saw as “his" empire.

“Why does he even care?"

Although he knew the technical answer to that question as he sat bolt upright in bed in the dead of the night, sweeping his fingers back through hair that was a little greasier than he may have wanted it to be, it still didn't make sense. That was the problem with questions and answers like that: the results of them didn't have to make sense to still be classed as answers and, well, that was just something that people had to deal with. He'd had an answer so why did he care about other things so much when it was there, all answered, nice and neat and oh so easy to take in?

“Oh, fuck it..."

He grunted in the back of his throat and was on his feet before he realised it, his body knowing better what he needed to do than his mind. He did not “use" for the purposes of desperation all that often but, sometimes, the lure was too great.

Just a break, a little break. He wasn't addicted, not by any means, though not even Donnie could explain why that was. Maybe he was just around it so much and changed drugs so much that things were “okay" in that regard, though there were other potential explanations too that even someone like him could not acknowledge at that time. Namely, John's demonhood, if that could even have all that much of an explanation to it.

No. Not now. Not then. Donnie fumbled in his stash, the night blurring. Had he been drinking? It was hard to remember, hard to load up the drug into the syringe, a different way of taking it to what he was used to. Meth was a drug of choice for so many but he baulked from the needles, usually needing John to do it for him, though even demon John had acquiesced to the task from time to time. It was all prepared, all ready, just needing to be injected, and he guessed at the dose as the room dipped and swayed around him. Was that his kitchen? It could have been. But it could have been the living room too?

Nothing made sense, reality shifting around him, the lines of it blurring in a way that he could hardly understand. Things didn't look right, nothing at all, lights flashing and blurring, euphoria coursing through him. The spent syringe fell to the floor, a trickle of fluid at the tip, and he blinked at it dully. Had he used that? Or was it left there, accidentally, from another time?

Down, down, down... He wanted to move but could not, times changing too quickly around him, snarling and howling, ripping him up and away from the world he knew. His eyes were closed and yet he saw everything, everything that had ever happened, the drug sending him back through his memories, tearing and roaring. There was nothing to cling to even as he thought he was laughing out loud, the ecstasy driving him to claw and scramble, searching for...something. Something, yes, he was searching for something, but just what that something was he did not know. His chest hurt, making him think that he was laughing or something else, something else, something else, something...else...

It was not blacking out but something different, a screeching like a train grinding to a halt at the end of the tracks, off the tracks, lost and gone for so much else. He tried to cry out but there was no sound anymore, no sound that he could make, the world black and white and every shade of colour in the world all at the same time.

And then it stopped, abruptly, casting him out of the whirlwind, staggering and swearing, though his head was clearer than ever. He caught himself, though there didn't seem to be any walls where he was either, the nausea that usually accompanied the come-down from a drug high not even roiling in his stomach anymore. What was up with that?

He stood up, however shakily it came to him, shoulder blades pushing back. Was he taller? That didn't make sense. But where was he? What was happening? One question after the other chased through his mind as he touched his face, the bridge of his nose, his lips. It did not ground him as he'd hoped, a disconcerting sense of something not being “right" twisting in his gut, almost as if gravity had changed. And yet his feet were still firmly rooted into whatever the ground was at that very moment, though he could not have said quite what that was.

Donnie peered closer, the ground seeming to rise to him rather than him bend down towards the ground. Mud? Stone? It seemed to change consistency, a strange sort of pliable, malleable gloop that clung to the soles of his shoes without dragging him back. His clothes were, at least, normal, jeans and a slouchy T-shirt without any stains on it, which was something at least. There was nothing worse than waking up somewhere after a drug-high or alcohol-induced binge-bender in dirty, soiled clothes.

“Fuck..."

Donnie swept both hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face, though he saw more clearly than ever before too. That had to have been it. He'd taken too much, been on his own, fucked off somewhere and gone on a little joy ride or whatnot, woken up in a gutter somewhere. Yet the street did not look familiar, the blurry edges taking form and shape in the lines of a city that was foreign to him, sirens blaring in the distance, broken neon signs flickering and buzzing. Grime coated the ground, however it clung to him, but he shook whatever it was that meant off the best he could. Fuck that. He didn't have to think about that.

“Now, how the fuck am I going to get out of here..."

But, wait, that didn't make sense if he'd just taken too much and buggered off somewhere else – how the hell would he have gotten out of his city if that was the case? He'd been in John's penthouse, the old penthouse, he was sure of it, the spot that John had loved so much, even though he'd not exactly wanted to own up to that out loud. John didn't like to say when he liked anything, letting his actions speak for themselves and woe betide everyone who dared say anything.

What was he doing again? Donnie swayed, leaning against a wheelie bin, though it did not shift under his weight, although it didn't seem full either. Someone staggered down the street ahead of him, the air oddly quiet around him, every sound seeming stark and glaring, as if it was perfectly deliberate. If he'd been more with his senses, maybe he would have heard more, or maybe he would have realised that there were no other noises out there to actually be heard.

“Watch it there..."

The staggering drunk with a twisted, gnarled expression shoved him aside and Donnie blinked. How'd he gotten there? How'd he moved that quickly? Shit, he must really have been out of it.

He didn't seem to be getting anywhere as he took step after step, each one heavier than the next, working his way through the lightest quicksand of all, dragged back and yet forced on at the same time. Nothing seemed right but that was alright, as long as he kept walking and walking.

Was he underground? He peered up, blinking as a crowd appeared around him, grunting souls that seemed to have somewhere to be and nowhere to go both at the same time. How that worked he could not tell but it did not matter, nothing mattered, the hordes whimpering and murmuring, coarser language cutting through.

“Fucking money..."

“When you gonna get it to me..."

“Saul doesn't know what's coming to him..."

“The game's rigged, rigged, I tell you..."

“I shouldn't even fucking be down here..."

Huh. That was weird. Where was “here"? Donnie laughed out loud stopping dead in his tracks.

Of course... It all made so much more sense now. He wasn't drugged up somewhere else or coming down from a high... He was still in the high! Everything the crowd said as they muttered and shuffled in around him, their gaping, ghastly mouths grumbling and yawning with obscenities, was just a drug-fuelled dream. No wonder it felt so lucid!

With that in mind, Donnie grinned and looked around, eager to see just what the dream had in store for him. Sure, he sometimes remembered lucid dreams after they happened or when he emerged, subdued and groggy, from a drug-fuelled sleep, crashing out at the point that he couldn't handle it anymore...but nothing like that ever before. It was strange, though maybe all dreams were like that, the sort of thing that felt real and then, on waking, was lost and gone with the memory of sleep. Until he woke though...he was going to see what was up and where he could go.

It seemed like he was in a street underground, though he cared less about the grimy gloop clinging to his shoes and even up his jeans to his calves as long as he knew it was a dream. To have rock walls arching overhead and, for all intents and purposes, a city around him, was strange, though the streets did not expand in the expected way with the rock walls to cut them off. It was as if it expanded straight into the rock through an underpass, though Donnie did not yet adventure down them to see just what lay on the other side. He would have time for that, he was sure, the space lending a sense that there was nowhere to go, no rush to be worried about even then.

Maybe he was right. Maybe he was wrong. What did it even matter anymore?

Donnie frowned as someone stopped in front of him. They shoved their hands into their pockets but, even though they were taller than him, he couldn't see their face in the shadows of their hood. He was sure though that there were harsh lines in the scope of their face, however, cutting and flaring, lips half in view and turned down in a tight-lipped grimace.

“Where you going?"

Donnie all but rolled his eyes. Just who did he think he was?

“Oh, go do one..."

It was not real, he was sure, nothing there could be real, and he pushed on with his chest thrust out, a smirk on his lips, however lopsided it ended up making his face look. Let them say anything, let them do whatever they wanted. Nothing down there, in the dream, could hurt him and he was, at the very least, entertained, even if a part of him was wondering just how long the dream was going to last. Never mind all that though, he'd keep on, keep looking, keep searching, his hunt barely over as he wondered too just what he thought he was searching for down there.

“Donnie?"

Huh? Did someone know his name? Of course, that was not all that strange, after all, considering it all was a lucid dream, a figment of his imagination that had no bearing in the real world. He looked around but saw no one familiar, even though he was sure that his name could have come from anyone at all.

“Donnie! What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Oh, wait, that sounded a bit closer and he grunted as he was grabbed by his shoulder and spun about, slammed back into a wall, pain searing through him from the point of impact. Blinking dully, Donnie's jaw fell slack, though it didn't make sense that John was right there before him, looming and bearing down on his shoulders, the worn, broken brick of the building he was half-crushed against digging into his back.

Languidly, lopsided at best, Donnie smiled.

“Fancy seeing you here..."

He drawled and slurred, though he was not sure why his words came out that badly when he didn't think, not right then, that he was intoxicated at all, chest heaving, rising and falling sharply, his brother right there before him. The lines in his face seemed darker in the shade of the building, though all light there was artificial, no stars to be seen. His brother had his demon horns on show too, though no wings, and Donnie laughed out loud, though it was more of a giggle, a bubble of spittle frothing up at the corner of his lips.

“Are you high or something?" John shook him, blocking his view of the street with his body. “Are you fucking crazy? Of course, you must have been high, something must have gone wrong... Shit, you're not fucking dead, are you?"

Donnie only laughed at that. Dead? That was stupid, that was really stupid... John was the one who was dead, not him. How stupid of him to say that. Stupid, so very stupid... His dream was really fucking stupid.

“No... No..." John frowned, though there was no sense of rationality in his expression, brow furrowed, eyebrows doing their very best to knot together. “You can't be dead, I would have known. Fuck, Donnie, what have you gone and gotten yourself into without me up there?"

Aw, he was so cute when he was concerned about him? Yet, even in the dream, Donnie was at least smart enough to hold his tongue on that count. He would have had a fist to the jaw, he was sure, if he dared say that and he'd seen his brother go off the rails more than once even though it was not all that obvious as to what would set him off at any given time. John turned his head back and forth, from side to side, his jaws moving, lips following suit, yet Donnie was too far gone to even realise just what he was saying, trying to follow, read his lips, though humour burbled in his gut.

“You don't look right..."

John blinked and rocked back on his heels, cheeks puffing out.

“What? What the fuck are you on about? Are you going to tell me what you took or not?"

What he'd taken? He hadn't taken anything, what a stupid question. Donnie laughed again, giddy and delirious as if he was high but, well, he didn't remember taking anything. Did that mean he hadn't actually dosed up on anything or that he had dosed up on something so fucking good that he didn't remember because of that? There was no way to tell and, floating high above everything while that slimy gloop kept him locked to the ground, gritty and unrelenting, something rising within him. He clung to that, diving deep, losing track of what was before him, what was happening around him, the world that he was in making it so very easy to forget that things were changing, groaning lightly in the back of his throat.

It was John... John, right there with him. What else could he do but what John wanted him to do practically every time he came back to the human world, the mortal world, just to see what was going on? Ruling over his empire was surely something that he had been so focused on of late that not even Donnie wanted to know where he was getting his rocks off, though that was part of their relationship that they had not discussed all that much?

“Donnie?"

He didn't listen, perhaps for one of the first times in his life. In a dream, nothing mattered and he sank to his knees, fumbling with John's belt. His fingers felt fat and thick and clumsy but he managed it even as his brother cursed, swatting at his fingers and trying to knock him away, though, of course, he didn't bother glancing around to wonder at them getting caught. There was no feature of “getting caught" in a dream that didn't end up kinky as shit and Donnie laughed, his brother's cock hardening in his hand. John wanted it, he wanted it: so which of them was going to fucking complain when they both wanted it? No one, of course!

He dropped a stone, not caring that his knees pressed down into the hard ground, grit and grime grinding into his kneecaps. It was all as it was meant to be and it went without saying that John was not going to push him away, Donnie laughing even then as he suckled the head of his cock into his mouth. It belonged there, even half-hard, and there was nothing quite like feeling his brother's dick harden up where it belonged, sealing him in the moment, right up in reality. He had to stay there, relax there, breathing evenly and deeply (well, as much as possible) moving his head even then, his brother taking no time at all to get hard. Leaning back onto his heels, John managed to balance there, exhaling in a rush of breath.

“Fuck, Donnie..."

Yes, well, that was the point of it, right? That was what he meant to do, what was the right thing for him, bobbing his head, taking that hard cock right up into the back of his throat. He didn't expect to find that as difficult in the dream as it was, his chest contorting and tightening a little as he gagged, but that was alright, he could draw back just enough for everything to be comfortable again. Losing himself in the moment, Donnie ignored the rest of the world around him, the buzzing, flickering neon, the world shifting around him without his knowledge as John, a little more “with it" than Donnie was even in that moment, shifted them to an alleyway, although they were not all that far down away from the main bustle of death down there either.

Donnie didn't care. It would have taken far, far more than that to make him care, the skin of John's cock pulling back with the bob of his head. Even his brother's hip rocked and rolled as he got into it, the moment not something to be passed by, even then. Donnie's heart surged. He'd known he could win him over, get him to the point that he couldn't resist, though even he could not have quite said how things usually went in a dream, not when he could not usually remember them. Things were to continue just as he needed them to, however, a lightly musky smell crowded his nostrils. Lingering sweat could not be helped, though it was a strange thing to notice in a dream, he thought to himself, not that something so light was about to stop him in his tracks. Although, he had to say that it was just a little bit weird...

No matter. All he had to do was think about what he was doing, his cock throbbing up to attention within his jeans. Was he even wearing any underwear? Fuck, that was a bit weird too but, once again, Donnie pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter if things were weird if he was there, doing all that he needed to. John's shaft pushed perfectly over his tongue as he lightly hollowed his cheeks to suck, letting out a moan as his hair, a little too long for comfort, fell across his face.

“Fuck, Donnie... Fuck."

It was good to make John make sounds like that again, curses blending into one as he groaned and gulped, swallowing him down, a trickle of pre-cum moistening his throat, which was more than a little dry, he noticed. Not going to stop him, not when his mouth nicely lubricated his brother's cock, sliding up and down his length as if it was all meant to be, everything coming together perfectly. Even in a dream, there was still the lingering sense that they had fucked so many times over that they knew the ins and outs of one another's bodies so intricately that they, quite literally, could do no wrong when it came to sex.

Whether or not that was the case was not at the forefront of Donnie's mind, however, as he groaned around his brother's length, feeling the hiss shudder down through John's body. Everything fed back so intimately when such a vulnerable body part was being well enough taken care of and Donnie lusted for even that, hastily leaning into the feel of it all as John's fingers twisted roughly into his hair. It was less of a twist, actually, and more of a grab, throwing caution, oddly at last, to the wind as he let out a snarl and dragged his brother's mouth down on his achingly hard cock.

He couldn't stop, wouldn't stop, losing himself right there and then, skin prickling with dry heat. There was no sweat, which was odd, but Donnie was hardly thinking about things like that as John groaned deeply in the back of his throat, leaning over his brother's head as he rammed in over and over again, a raw and ragged snarl ripping itself from his lips. He had to keep going, Donnie urged him on in the privacy of his mind, for he could not speak out loud with his mouth as full as it was. He wanted it, wanted it so much – and just why hadn't John come to see him of late? It was frustrating, so very frustrating, at the very least, to be stuck jacking off alone and not even able to find John for himself. And wouldn't everything, simply everything, just be all that much easier if only he could just hop right on down and find his brother whenever the fancy took him?

Donnie moaned, his lips sealed as tightly around his brother's shaft as he could, though he didn't need to do anything. In his dreams, everything could take on the roughest edge of reality and he grunted even through the sliver of pain as John rammed right up into the back of his mouth again, though Donnie bobbing all that he could on his shaft didn't help his predicament any. Hacking and gagging all over again, he caught himself wondering just what was wrong there, why he couldn't deep-throat him so easily, sensation clawing at him while he longed for a little dulling of it, just to push on even more in the dream.

He didn't know.

“Fuck..."

Ah, John swearing again. Even around his cock, Donnie grinned, eyes half-lidded, trying to look up without making that line of tension burst across his forehead from rolling his eyes too far back into his skull. It was not something that he could honestly do but he found himself trying time after time again, trying for that look and that view that would send his heart and his pounding, aching cock into overdrive. Truth be told, it was a new thing entirely to feel his cock going at it that hard, making a driving, rising bulge in his jeans, in a dream but the fresh sensation at least sent a shiver down his spine as he moaned out loud, however muffled it was.

Shoes scuffed at the end of the alleyway but Donnie did not care even as John's head whipped around, a snarl on his lips that could have been a smirk if seen under less trying times.

“Hey, look at that." The grizzled bloke spat out his cigarette though, if Donnie had been able to look up, he would have seen it fizzling out on the ground, blistering into non-existence. “That bastard's getting his dick..."

“Keep walking!"

John's words lanced out like the lash of a whip, striking home, eyes glowing, his wings snapping out as he snarled viciously. Donnie did not look up even though his eyes opened, his vision taken up by what he could see of John's stomach, his jacket hanging open, the scent of old, worn, dirty leather oddly tantalising in a moment where his attention really should have been elsewhere. He slid his hands up over his abs, the muscle that had only become more defined in demonhood but, well, he supposed demons had ways and things about them to keep their bodies in fine shape without having to worry about working out like humans did. Where it should not have been a plus point, something about it most certainly was still.

Being a demon should not have been anyone's goal. Yet if John was going to be such, he was going to wear his horns damn fucking well!

He grunted, thrusting into Donnie's mouth with raw abandon, and Donnie's heart lifted. So close... So close to something that he really should never have desired from his brother and still found himself wanting for the strangest, most lustful of reasons time after time again. He craved it, the feel of being commanded, dominated, yet he very much doubted that he could have ever possibly have trusted anyone else in the world to overpower him like John did. There was something about the edge to it that made him more excited than anything else, as if things could spiral out of control at a moment's notice, as much as anyone who was anyone knew that that was very dangerous ground to remain on for any span of time, regardless of what anyone wanted from a relationship or even just a quick fuck and fling.

John wasn't about to let up though, at the point of orgasm, something that Donnie was more than just fine with, and Donnie groaned in unison with him as a hot load of cum filled his mouth. There was no warning given for it out loud but he knew just how John twitched and tensed, hunching forward just a little more, in the moment before climax to not be surprised by it. It was not as if he had any big tells, like the sleek studs in pornos or things like that, but he was more stoic, hiding it all until the grand reveal and leaving Donnie to deal with his orgasm in the best way he pleased.

As he sucked it down, using his tongue to push it to the back of his throat with a heated yet far from bashful blush, Donnie's scalp tingled with the release of pain. At last, John let go of his hair, working his fingers in and out of a fist as if doing that too had made his hand sore, though that was a strange detail to fixate on (or to even be present in a dream) and Donnie shoved it aside, taking his prize with closed eyes and a little smirk that would have told anyone that he had more than gotten what he thought he deserved.

“Donnie..." John groaned, sweeping his hand back through his hair as, seeming with some difficulty, he pushed Donnie back from his lightly softening cock, the moment of the high having passed. “Alright... We need to talk. We need to work out what happened."

Donnie laughed out loud and shook his head, sitting back, though he was surprised, if only a little, to find that the floor down there was as grimy as everything else was, sucking and clinging to him like mud even though it boasted the feel and consistency of stone.

“Jeez, you're talkative this time. You don't usually go on that much when we're...you know... But maybe you're high. That's the only time that you really can't stop going on and on and on and on and on... You get me?"

John's expression twisted, looking down at his brother with pause, though it was difficult to hold any sort of gravity to the moment with his cock still out and on show.

“Don't sit for too long. They're always waiting to take you."

“What are you going on about?"

Yet that was not something that, seemingly, Donnie was about to get an answer to in the heat of the moment, need rising, crawling across his skin. Yes, he needed it, needed it very badly, scraping at his jeans where there was no belt to deal with, though even the barrier of a button and zip no longer quite seemed right when he was looking up at John with his huge, beautiful wings spread in all their glory. Why, they were even enough (almost) to detract attention from his dick!

That amused Donnie and he giggled, the giggle rising into a chuckle and then a full-blown laugh, bending over at the waist and holding his gut, though the floor clung to him, keeping him there. With a frown, John yanked him up onto one knee and that released the hold of it a little, leaving him feeling just a little lighter, as if he could float away at any moment, which was a strange sensation indeed even if a better one than feeling as stuck to the floor as a piece of old gum.

But Donnie had better things on his mind even as someone else paused in the entrance to the alleyway, a snarl from John and a glare sending them right along their way quick enough though as if they had not seen anything at all. If it was a dream though, Donnie cursed his subconscious, even as he lingered in the midst of it, for not simply allowing him to experience more, perhaps a threesome or a gangbang... His mind drifted, wandering as John leaned back against the wall, getting his second wind even in the dream for Donnie. Wasn't that thoughtful of him? Oh, that must really have meant that it could not have been yet over, things ticking on just as Donnie had hoped they would. Moaning quietly, he rubbed the back of his hand over the bulge of his cock. Usually, he was one to get off in dreams but, well, he could go for a second round if he wasn't about to wake up anytime soon.

“Come on," he groaned, shucking his skin of his T-shirt, bare and shivering just a little. “You can't be done yet."

John rolled his eyes.

“Donnie, where the fuck do you think you are?"

“Does it matter?"

John's lips pressed together, though his pursing of them only made Donnie want to do worse things, one of his few and far between dominant urges wanting to see his own dick sliding between his lips. He swallowed a groan. Wouldn't that be something? It was a dream though, so everything was possible there...

“Get down."

He stood with authority, a smile on his lips that was more of a smirk, heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears. Hell, he was even a little dizzy but that could not have been right in a dream, unless it was set to shift to another scene, hopefully an even more lustful one. He wouldn't have wanted to leave the liaison he was in currently for anything less, though Donnie was more than aware too that there were some things that he simply could not control as much as he was wont to try.

John stared at him without moving a muscle.

“I don't think you mean that."

Donnie shivered. Oh, yes, there was that voice, that tone that send trembles of dread through him, lust shooting up tenfold, more so even than jabbing a needle into his arm. He needed that, needed it like a quick high, something to make him forget anything else, fear and lust coming together in the perfect cocktail best enjoyed in a sky-high bar looking out over the city that, indeed, they ruled together.

“Maybe I do."

He pushed his luck, tipping his chin down in what he thought was defiance but only came off as bratty, hair flopping half-across his eyes. A tousled mess, it was hard there to get it into some shape of order but Donnie, nude on his top half, did not care, lips pressed together into a hard, challenging line.

As much as he swore he saw John's cock twitch, flushing back full of blood just a little bit more in the prelude to something more, his brother didn't seem to be quite as into the turn in proceedings as he had hoped he would be.

“Okay, you're coming with me, dear."

John tucked himself away as he spread his wings, though Donnie was not going to prove to be an easy passenger as he walked straight off without a care in the world.

“That's no fun," he said with a wave of his hand, dismissing the dream as easily as he would someone out on the street. “Look, if this dream isn't going to stay interesting, I'll just go find something more interesting than you to do. He could be fun..."

He pointed at someone on the main street, shirtless but otherwise “presentable" at the very least, but before the person out there could turn to see how was trying to grab their attention John had him in his arms, swearing out loud, wings beating with a resounding clap, forcing their bodies up.

With the rock walls, however, closing in above the street and the top level of the buildings, most of which were a maximum of three storeys at best, there was little space in which to fly, John drawing attention even as hollers and snarls followed them. Donnie strained to bear but the beating of his brother's wings (thankfully, that time, not while they were engaged in the art of aerial sex, which was a terrifyingly yet exotically erotic ordeal) drowning out all else.

He didn't know how far John took him but he was not concentrating on that while the wind whistled, though massive, feathered wings beating and shaping the air, pummelling it with all the force that John had in his body. Flying did not seem to be an easy feat in the dream, however, and Donnie touched his brother's shoulder, worried for him even then.

“Are you okay?"

“Just why would I be okay?" John growled, not even looking at him, though Donnie didn't know whether that was a bad or a good thing. “You're in hell, fuck, Donnie – look around you!"

But he didn't, couldn't, jaw falling slack, blood roaring in his ears. No, no, no, it was a dream, just a dream, a dream that he would wake from. Even then, Donnie's heart pounded, the pounding drive of it surely the prelude to a horrifically rude awakening, yet they kept right on going, the rhythm of his wings starker and clearer than anything had ever before been in any dream of Donnie's. As much as he gaped, there was no escaping the truth of it, heat burning through him, though the shame of being caught on the back foot was perhaps a little more familiar to him than it would have been to John.

“I... You..." Donnie fought for words. “What? How? Why?"

“Shut up, we're almost there."

“There" proved to be an apartment set into the rock-face that looked as if John had made it himself, although there was no finesse to just how the rough-faced walls had been hewn out. Although there was no furniture that Donnie could recognise as such, a crate turned upside down to look something like a table, the main feature was a metal bed with a surprisingly clean mattress and the sheets folded up neatly at the base, ready to be laid out as and when needed. It was such a fresh drop of normality where nothing was normal, that it drew Donnie up short, jaw dropping as he struggled to take it all in.

“Wait... You mean to say..."

Donnie sat down on the edge of the bed, although John did not join him. Standing tall, he crossed his arms across his chest, uncomfortable in what seemed to be something of his home down there, though the fact that the bed did not exactly appear to be slept in spoke volumes. Again and again, Donnie shook his head, holding it in his hands, rooted in reality, though his reality was something where the lines had, shockingly, blurred, turning his world upside down.

“Why isn't there fire and brimstone?" He said instead of the many other swirling questions clamouring for attention. “Isn't that what hell's supposed to all be about? Why isn't it like that?"

“I could show you that part, if you like, but it's not safe for someone like you down here on the streets, the side-districts, let alone in the heart of it all."

There was more? That was too much for him, far, far too much, and Donnie groaned, rocking back and forth as John eyed him up, eyes raking over his naked torso. He sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair, mussing it up and teasing it out, though it was the most of a nervous reflex that Donnie had seen from him in a long time. Maybe hell stripped away the confidence of a person too, a demise and a descent that, if nothing else, revealed just who a person truly was.

No, no... Donnie shook his head. It had to be a prank, a joke. Maybe it was John who had fucked with his stash all along, sent him off on such a trip that he thought he was in hell, yes, that sounded right. It would not be the first time, after all, and who only knew what a demon was capable of, what John could do not even revealed in its entirety to Donnie at that point in time. John scowled at him, his handsome face turning darker and more feral, though it was never directed at a worthy cause.

“Seriously, Donnie, you left your fucking shirt there?"

John rolled his eyes

“Wait... So, you're serious?" Donnie gulped, hands on his throat, a pressure there even though it was only him, nothing else there that could hurt him at that time. “I'm really in hell?"

“That's what I said, wasn't it? Do you have any fucking idea how fucking dangerous it is down here?"

Donnie rolled his eyes.

“Err... Sure. What's the worst that can happen to you when you're dead? If you're dead, you're dead and that's the end of it. And it really makes you sound less educated than you are if you swear twice in the same sentence."

He felt rather than saw John turn his gaze on him, a locked-on, steely sort of stare that would have made lesser men quail. Donnie, however, had been subject to it more than enough times to bear through it, even if he could not quite shrug it off even then.

“Dear, if you harp on about that one more time..."

His tone dropped to the semblance of pure ice, freeing depths where many bodies had been found and even more left undiscovered forever, and Donnie turned away, widening his eyes and throwing his hands up, a little more exuberant still than usual.

“Alright, fucking hell... Wait, can I say that here? And does that mean that I'm dead then?" He paused, the enormity of that hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Wait... Does it actually mean that?"

“I don't think so."

Donnie gulped.

“That's hardly reassuring."

“Well..." It was John's turn to hesitate and seeing him on the back foot turned his stomach more than anything else in hell ever could have done. “It's not easy. It's complicated. Clearly, not all demons can jump back to the mortal world like me and I thought for a while that it must be the same for actual people too. If we can do it, it must work the other way too. It must have been that way for years with crazy shit that we would have ignored normally. Funny how all of that just seems to make more sense now..."

He shook himself off bodily, a shudder running through his shoulders.

“Anyway... I think it'll be something like me that's tipped you down here unexpectedly. There was clearly something in one of our strains that trips the mind so far that the lines between the worlds blur, although I stayed where I was, when that happened to me."

He trailed off, though if Donnie expected to hear more, he was going to have to ask for it.

“You going to tell me or what then?"

Shorter and snappier than he usually was, it was not all that untoward to think that he had pushed things a little too far, John sighing and shaking his head, more defeated than Donnie had ever seen him. That in itself scared him more than anything else.

“Yes... But it's just that demon-like things, the horns and the wings, started happening when I was high. You know when you found the place smashed up before? That was me, getting my wings, though you thought I'd just had a bad batch of drugs. Strangely enough, that had just been a regular line of coke that I'd snorted. I never quite worked out what trigged the changes, that there was something more still waiting for me too after I kicked the bucket.

Donnie shuddered.

“Do you have to put it like that? And why didn't you tell me about all this? I could have been more careful with getting high at the very least if you'd said something!"

John shrugged but didn't meet his eyes.

“It never came up."

John perched carefully beside him but Donnie did not react. But, sometimes, that was all the two of them needed, nothing awkward in the strange sort of companionship that they had, their relationship never strictly defined by any rules or terms even after John had been murdered (did it count as murder if he killed someone else at the same time?). Silently, John extended a wing around Donnie, hugging his shoulders, and Donnie leaned into his brother, though John's skin was colder than it was in his world, the world of the living.

He was, quite literally, sitting with a dead man.

“Alright," Donnie said shakily, sitting up a little, although he did not move out of the feathered cup of John's wing. “I'm here. What do I do now? You said it's risky... How do I protect myself from people here, demons? Is everyone a demon?"

John stared at him quite as if he'd grown a second head (maybe that wasn't such a strange thing in hell), drawing back slightly.

“Donnie... Dear, you can't stay."

Oddly gently. That was just how Donnie would have described his tone but it was not as if he could hear very much of it with blood roaring in his ears. No... No, he could not. Like so many things in life (or death, as it was), he would not. He could but he would not, would never, not now that he was where he needed to be. Hell, he was a man who had done more than enough in his life to tumble into the darkest and deepest pits of hell itself along with John and maybe it was just as well that he'd sort of made the call for himself. Who could anticipate where else he'd end up if he died naturally or through some horribly gruesome way and was dumped in hell without taking the leap for himself? He'd not generated along with new souls descending to hell and there was no telling where he would end up otherwise, without John, and that could not happen...

“Donnie?"

John shook him by the shoulders, clearly having said something that Donnie did not catch, so caught up in his own thoughts he was. But he knew what he had to do, the threat of leaving hell and leaving John hanging over him, his lips on John's before his mind caught up with the fervent urgency of his body, kissing him deeply.

It took his brother a moment to respond but he did, for what man would not? Maybe his need was as great as Donnie's that he allowed himself to be swayed, if only for a moment, but it was that moment alone that Donnie needed as the kiss deepened again, John's fingers resting lightly on the back of his neck, curling around, keeping him right where he needed to be regardless of the pressure exerted. Donnie would not pull back and most certainly would not try to turn the tables again, but maybe he could either convince John to let him stay or distract him enough that he would simply not be able to send him away. His brother, regardless of his rashness in life and in death, was no fool and intelligent enough but carnal lusts were the apple in the Garden of Eden to the two of them more than anything else in the world.

The sheets were cast back off the bare bed, mattress squeaking, a shockingly comforting, familiar sound. John was on top of him and Donnie grunted into his mouth, arching up, heart feeling quite as if it was about to beat out through the bareness of it, the thirsty drive of need coursing through him. Although his hard-on had softened while he'd been dealing with more immediate and most certainly less lustful matters, it was back in full-force in but a few moments, John pushing down against him with ever-increasing urgency.

Yet John was a demon who could take all that he craved as and when he wanted it, breaking the kiss to flip Donnie over and “assist" him out of his jeans. They and his underwear hit the floor and, as Donnie shuffled around, breath catching in his throat from the intensity of the kiss that still lingered on his lips, heated and sharply lustful, to find John nearly nude too, his shaft on show and as ready as it'd ever be.

“Fuck..."

It was all as it needed to be as Donnie let his brother push over his back, forcing his weight down over him, a more demanding edge rising to their lust as he sought entry immediately. Forced to bear his brother's weight, Donnie hung his head, the mattress creaking beneath them, as nice as it had looked. He would not let him down, the position easily allowing John to keep his wings out of the way, though that was a new feature of him still that Donnie had not been allowed a chance to explore. Maybe it would come in time but, right there and then, all he wanted was his brother bearing into him, reminding him just why he had ended up overdosing on meth to begin with.

In trying to forget about John, he'd ended up with John. He couldn't have thought of something more poetic but his moan more than covered that up as his pucker stretched around his brother's cock, burying it slowly deeper and deeper. There was no need for lube when they took it slow but the pain was not something that entirely turned Donnie off either, as long as there was no injury, of course, in that area. Once alone that had happened and, since then, they had more than learned the limits of each other's bodies like that. All that came after was pure pleasure.

“Fuck..."

John hissed out the word through his teeth, rocking his hips, pounding him deep, using the full length of his cock right from the beginning. There was no holding back for him as he wrapped his arms around Donnie's chest with enough force to compress his lungs, taking his breath from him in a different way to usual as John showed him just what a demon was capable of. Coughing and wheezing, Donnie tried to relax but there was no relaxing as air was deprived from him, his body not understanding just what was happening to him even though it had come time and time again from a belt or a hand closed around his throat.

Losing the ability to take in a full breath, for some reason, brought all else into stark definition, every sensation tingling forth with an added edge. His chest shuddered but all he could think about was how full he felt in the best of way, his brother's cooler skin warming to the touch of him, wings spread over them as if in protection. He rather liked that thought even though it was not something that he would say out loud, the notion of being protected. John was stronger than him as a demon – that much could not be contested – but maybe it would be fine down there if John just protected him. Surely there weren't many scarier demons around than John and there was no real threat to him? No, no... Donnie groaned, though it rasped out hoarsely without the needed breath to carry it forth. No, there could be no harm done with John there.

Growling subtly, John tightened his grip, hips working, a stray feather drifting down, yet Donnie hardly heard him, his cock harder than it had ever been, even though it was usually difficult for him to get off like that from penetration alone. He wanted it and he leaned into it with a ravenous sort of hunger, the very hunger that had clawed at the pit of his dark and decrepit soul since John had last left him. And that was just why John could not leave him back in the human world, the real world, all over again when he needed to be with him at any cost.

Even the cost of his life.

But he didn't need to think about that right there and then, his brother's hips working faster, lust rising. It would come either way but the throb of his shaft heralded a spurt of pre-cum, trickling forth in John's excitement. That he was as enraptured with his brother and his brother's body as much as Donnie was with him and his was an understatement, skin prickling obviously as he shivered against Donnie despite the comfortable temperature of the room. Anything at all may have been going on in hell at that very moment but neither of them would have known as Donnie was fucked harder and faster, his brother pounding him with raw, wild abandon.

And, through it all, Donnie's chest tightened and tightened, the pressure increasing until he merely gaped, opening and closing his mouth soundlessly, unable to do anything but feel. The tightness was not solely in his chest but his anal passage struggling to bear John's shaft, hips slapping his buttocks as he growled savagely, thrusting harder and faster than ever. Everything built to a silently roaring crescendo as Donnie tried to twist, his body fighting to breathe even as John forced him not to. Yet it was all coming whether the two of them wanted it to last longer or not, Donnie's cock twitching and throbbing with blood, need pumping through him in a way that simply could not be denied.

Orgasm roared through him, climaxing hands-free, the pressure of it all too much to bear – his body had to react somehow! He was not deprived oxygen for long enough to pass out but long enough for ecstasy, twisting and bucking, grinding back on John even though Donnie was not truly in control of his body at that very moment in time. It was all he could do to remain rooted where he was, to remember that he was with John, the blasting waves of pleasure snarling through his mind as if he had been possessed, perhaps, by a demon.

Yet all was not to remain as blissful as he wanted it to, John's arms falling away in but a moment, breath entering his lungs sweetly but scornfully at the same time. He could take more, he wanted to say, do more, he could definitely do more, but a sharp pain in his arm drew his attention down too late, the syringe emptying as John pushed down the plunger.

Without knowing, Donnie knew what was in that plunger, lunging for his brother's arm and ripping his hand away, though the syringe remained, sticking out of him like a spine, a quill of an animal, mocking him in its placement.

“You bastard!" He howled. “You fucking knew all along!"

John did not smile, touching his brother's face as Donnie jerked away, their bodies still joined while other parts of them were further away than ever. Donnie's stomach twisted but he could not stay there, fainter and fainter, feeling himself slipping away despite clinging to his brother with all the desperation there was in his soul. If only desperation could have kept him there.

John took a breath, something that Donnie could not put a name to crossing his eyes.

“You can't stay here, Donnie..."

And then he was gone, his hand ripped from John's arm, howling in anguish for being taken, the storm wrapping itself around him and tearing him from the one he loved, even though he could not, would not, still say it out loud. His heart throbbed, pain coursing down through his gut so sickeningly that he thought he might hurl, head spinning, feet solidifying, taking form back...

...Back where he'd come from. In the blink of an eye, he could only determine that he'd teleported back to his apartment, the place that he'd started from, a mess of syringes on the floor and scattered bags of what was probably coke, though it could have been another strain that he was working on with his supplier too. Anything to keep things fresh for the drug-hungry masses of the city, pushing on to new heights of depravity every day.

He wobbled, putting his hand out on the wall for balance. Water. He needed water. His throat burned as if it had been scraped raw with sandpaper and he glugged down first one glass and then a second in the kitchen, gasping and heaving, his lungs aching too. Funny that sensations like that could carry over from hell, he thought, though there was nothing funny about it as he scowled sullenly at the kitchen sink.

The yawning, gaping pain in his heart as if he'd been stabbed from the inside-out... That was something that he would address another time.

He didn't bother looking around as the hiss of smoke heralded John emerging from a portal, following him straight to his home, presumably, after sending Donnie there first. He was clothed and Donnie realised, dully, that he was too, though something like that ceased to matter with his lack of attention to anything bar the monster scraping out his guts, clawing at him, begging for release from the pit of his belly.

“Get out."

The two words could not have come out with greater bitterness than they did and even John took a step back. The glass pressed coolly against Donnie's palm as his shaking hand closed around it, lips pressed tightly together, his body held rigid solely with stark lines of tension.

“You weren't safe there, we can find a way for you to come back and forth..."

“But you'll be in control of that, won't you?"

He felt John's hesitation even as he tried to tell him otherwise and that was more than enough for Donnie to know that anything said would not be what he wanted. No more back and forth, no more wondering when the next time would be and he wasn't talking about sex there either. No, he was thinking about what they had never spoken about and what, one day, would come to pass between them, the relationship and the bond that was there even if neither of them had the fucking balls to talk about it.

They'd have to. Just not that night. Not with so many raw emotions tearing through Donnie.

John rested his hand on Donnie's shoulder, easing in as if he was creeping up on a wild animal.

“Come on, Donnie..."

He tried to close the distance between them but a glass shattering beside John's head was more than enough to make him back off, his promise of finding a way for Donnie to safely go back and forth falling on deaf ears. All Donnie felt right then was the pain of loss for a second time, deserting and being deserted both at the same time. There were no words for that sort of trauma until one was willing to listen to reason, the rational solution that could help even if not fix the problem entirely.

For his brother lived in one world and him another.

Only one thing would fix that.