has anyone ever actually had their bones feel uncomfy? if so, i’d love to hear the stories. mine was when i was learning about bone worms in marine biology class. my bones itched.
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prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven
It’s a teaser/prologue for the upcoming John Constantine chaptered series called “Dead as dead can be”. This scene appeared in my mind after I re-watched Constantine for like the twentieth time and so it is. I have a thing for dark women in fiction where the plot line is based around supernatural element. So yes, let’s begin the adventure ;)
SUMMARY: A very old friend found a twisted way of asking John for a favor.
Words: 983;
Warnings: smoking;
“How was death, Jonathan?” Her sultry voice echoed in his ears, “Or should I ask: how was hell?” She was always so overconfident, he could assume it was the cause of her premature death. John decided that this time it all was worthy at least some effort and turned around to face her; he removed the unlit cigarette from between his chapped lips right before the sight of her made him drop it to the ground.
Crimson lace of the gown that was hugging her body, underlining every curve of her figure definitely didn’t fit in the usual-Friday-night-outfit scheme. It was something more than that and she was much more than an usual human being.
The woman smiled, showing him two rows of perfectly white teeth, along with the set of her long fangs. She flicked her tongue across her lips, painted in matte crimson, and smiled even wider, the corners of her mouth curling, forming an evil smirk on her gorgeous face.
Making few steps towards him, her stilettos clicked on the crooked concrete tiles, but there wasn’t any flinch nor any stumble, she kept slowly sauntering closer to him like she was walking a catwalk.
John placed the cigarette back in between his lips, his hand moved to the pocket of his jacket in a search for his golden lighter, but even before he could reach it, digging it out to the surface, she already lit the cig with a silver one she held in her slim fingers.
After snapping the lid close, she touched his chin with her long nail, that was neatly covered in scarlet varnish and slid it down onto his neck, “I heard you quit, Jonathan, many years ago”, her fingers squeezed his throat. He hissed at her, his action triggering her giggle.
Her other hand wandered to his lips, snatching the lighted smoke from them and putting it to her own. After two quick drags she inhaled the smoke and gave it back to him, “Thanks” John growled through his gritted teeth when she placed the cancer stick between his lips.
Exhaling the smoke she breathed it directly into his face and he coughed few times, the harsh smoke making his eyes water. When she removed her hand from his throat he could finally catch a proper breath and fully enjoy the cig. She took a step back, but kept staring at him, the evil grin not leaving her face.
“What do you want?” He growled at her again, the tough sound that left his mouth made the lines on her forehead more visible. She slid her hand down her neck and onto the deep cleavage of her dress, “Perhaps you should stop flirting and start talking.”
The laugh that filled her whole body and bubbled on her lips, bouncing of every wall, echoing on every street, woke up the whole city, “You never were a fan of relationships” in a second she was back to absolute-and-utter-calm pinched with a small amount of revengeful spite, “rumor had it, that it all changed with Angela” he finished his cigarette and dropped it to the pavement, stepping onto it with his boot.
“Nothing changed with anyone.”
“Yet you still keep an eye on her” she started to circle him like he was her prey and she waited for the perfect moment to devour him.
After another lap he finally failed to remain calm and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from moving, “Can you tell me what the fuck do you want from me?” He tightened the grip he had on her wrist, the lace cuff of her dress tickling his skin.
With furrowed brows she took one step closer, their bodies almost pressed into each other.
“Don’t touch the flame if you don’t want to get burned” she was back to her bullshit with the sultry tone of her voice, batting eyelashes at him, the evil grin still glued to her lips.
“Cut the poetical bullshit. I’m not helping you in any way, kiss my ass sweetheart” John let go of her hand and slapped it back when she wanted to touch his.
“Jonathan, I’d love to kiss your bubbly butt, but it’s not a time nor a place for it. Besides, I wouldn’t stalk you here if it wasn’t something serious” he rolled his eyes at her and dig out another cigarette from the pack he kept in the inside pocket of his coat. She snatched it from his hand even before he had the chance to place it between his lips and crushed it in her hand letting the tobacco debris fly from it freely.
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he tried his best not to say few things out loud. With hands clenched into fists he stood with his face directly in front of hers, “You know how my bones are itchy for you” she started with her voluptuous tone, trying to hypnotize him and his mind began to pirouette, his tensed muscles become relaxed, when his fists became un-clenched she slid a small envelope into his hand, “maybe in another life I could finally be with you” he turned to a piece of clay she could form freely with both of her hands now, “and have you, in all of the ways I always wanted to, because yes I do, I want you.”
After few blinks he finally retrieved his mental skills, “Get to the point” he spoke softly, but her figure disappeared from his vision long ago, before he was able to say anything. A loud “fuck” escaped from his lips and few by-passers turned around to see who was cursing on the street.
The only proof of her existence was the matte ivory envelope he held firmly in his hand, an unlit cigarette in other and an imprint of her red lipstick on his cheek.
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