Whereas his brother was not always around, being a demon and all, Donnie sometimes found himself at a loss for things to do. Their "business", if one could call it that, ran pretty much by itself with just him to oversee it, though most of what Donnie had to do there involved cleaning up any messes that John created, interfering in the human world when, truly, he did not quite have due jurisdiction to do so. Yet anyone who wanted to tell John not to do something would have been considered a brave soul indeed to do when he was human, much less when he'd ascended (or descended, depending on how one wanted to look at it) to being a demon.
A demon...
Donnie shook his head. He wasn't so sure he'd ever get used to that. With his hands back behind his head, he relaxed in the hideaway, a bought abode outside the city, somewhere that was designed to be used as an intermediate bolt-hole if things ever truly went to shit. It had never come to that so far, at least not for him, but it was nice to know it was there if needed, amongst others. Fiddling with his glasses, he cast his eyes around, the bolt-hole sunken into the ground with grass growing over the roof. It was not as insulating as it could have been but a touch of John must have been in him at that very moment as he stretched out along the full length of the sofa. He wasn't usually that lazy -- not so lazy, at least, that he didn't even really feel the need to get himself up and turn the heating on.
Nevermind.
There were times, after all, when his mind needed to slow down and rest, remembering better times, times when the two of them had thought that they were invincible. Of course, perhaps that meant that, ultimately, John was invincible, but certainly not as a human. No, he had shed the skin of mortality when that knife had slid into him, taking away his ability to claw at and hold onto humanity. But shedding that skin had not left him unable to push into Donnie, the man that he loved taking him even though he was a demon, their bodies coming together furiously and feverishly time after time again.
Some would have said it was an addiction to think about one man so much, much less his very own brother, but Donnie knew too that there was no one there to care. His bolt-hole was set up with state of the art technology, paid for with ill-gotten gains, but none of it held his attention as the curtains slid shut, a touch of a button sliding the room into an artificial twilight. Leaving himself enough light to see by, he groaned lightly, rolling his hips up as his need grew, allowing it to do so naturally.
Damn... Donnie chuckled hoarsely, rasping out his mirth to himself as the rising throb of his shaft pushed out against the front of his jeans, his undergarments tighter than they should have been. He could have sorted the heating too with the touch of a button. How was it that he was forgetting things like that? Maybe his mind was wandering too much, drifting between realities -- even more so, after all, since John had shown him that unreality was very much a possible thing.
It was a lot to take in. Better to rest, to allow himself that pleasure, the back of his hand pressed to his crotch, teasing and testing the waters. A few moments for himself, of course, were laid out there for him to take. And it was only right for him to take them, the button popping loose, zip sliding down, hardness rising into his hand as if it had only been waiting for the right moment in which to make itself known.
Lying back, he remembered.
*
John scowled as he leaned back on the sofa, an arm slung over the back of it as if he owned it. They may have been in Donnie's home -- or, at least, one of his residences -- but it was not something that he had expected John to take note of. He acted as if he was the owner of everything that he touched, his casual demeanour cloying and clawing at everything, stark and loud.
He tipped his glass upside down and frowned even more darkly, shaking it a few times as if a few more drops of liquor may well have found it in themselves to fall out of it. It was the middle of the night but he was as awake as if it was noon, their sleep schedules not really having been all the great for the majority of their lives. And, as it was, the majority of illegal business took place after the sun went down... Where those in charge, of course, weren't being totally brazen about it.
"Fucking idiots," he muttered under his breath, not seeing what was in front of them. "All of them... Everyone!"
Donnie swung around in the computer chair, though the workstation that he had set up in that home, an apartment that no one but the two of them knew about in the middle of the city, was not his usual fare. A little research though and communication from a fresh device gave him eyes on a situation like nothing else, though a solution to the trade issue of their drug business (it was better to think of it like that rather than anything illegal) had not yet come to him. If John was not grouching out his frustrations quite so loudly, he might even reach it sooner rather than later.
"Me too?" He joked lightly, though his tone was flatter than he had meant it to come out.
John scowled and threw the glass, though the casual flick of his wrist must have had more force behind it than Donnie had realised. As if it was nothing, it sailed across the room and smashed on the opposite wall, shattering as the tempered glass shot off in all directions. It rained down to the carpet like crystalline raindrops and even Donnie jumped, although, as usual, John did not react in the slightest. Making an ugly face at his hand, he looked down, opening and closing it as if he was wondering just why another glass, full of alcohol, had simply not appeared magically there as he willed it.
Letting out a held breath that was rendering too tightly in his lungs, Donnie exhaled roughly.
"Jeez, John..."
His brother did not even question his concern, though neither got up to set the glass to rights. It would not have been the first time, after all, that broken glass had littered the floor of just where they were. One might have said that it even reminded them of some part of their younger years.
