Nergal settled himself against a wall across the street from John's flat. He had been watching the man for a week now, and his routine varied little, but tonight Nergal could sense something different in the air. He arrived not a moment too soon—Constantine himself came out the front door, his skinny frame hunched into his trench coat and a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He stopped for a minute, and looked towards Nergal. The demon knew all he would see was what Nergal was projecting—a homeless man in a dark coat. Sure enough, after a moment, John walked on.
He came back after a time with a bag of takeaway and went up the stairs. Nergal followed, slipping the lock on the door. He went up the stairs, following Constantine's aura until he reached the front door of his flat. Using a fraction of his demonic powers—because he didn't want John to know he was about, not yet--he placed a hand on the door and looked within.
What Nergal saw made him smile broadly. John was sitting on his sofa, and he wasn't alone. There was a woman, a woman with long dark hair sitting next to him. A demon, Nergal sensed the darkness in people, and Constantine was fairly boiling over with lust towards her. Nergal was honestly surprised that John hadn't dragged her off by her hair yet.
He took his hand away from the door and left the building, chuckling lightly to himself. His joy was partly that he didn't have to make the trip to Belfast any more and mostly because he had just thought of an entirely new way to make John Constantine suffer.
xxx xxx xxx
It had been three weeks since Pete had moved into his flat, and John began to get the inkling she wasn't going anywhere when she began buying him furniture.
"Your sofa is an abomination, John," she told him, as the movers carted it out and installed a new foldaway.
"I loved that sofa!" he protested.
"Oh please, Constantine, you were always complaining about how much it hurt your back..." John gave her puppy dog eyes.
"Well luv, I am an old man…"
"You're thirty-one, Constantine."
"I'm old compared to you." Pete's eyes fell to the floor.
"You are not, John," she muttered. "Y'could 'ave a girl a lot younger than me." John knew exactly why her good mood had suddenly faded, and felt the renewed urge to murder Kit Pryde in an unspeakable and creative way.
"No thanks, luv. I prefer to stay out of the lockup." He lifted her chin with one finger and grinned at her. She reluctantly smiled back. "Let's go out," he said. "You bought me new furniture, so I'll buy you a pint." Pete shrugged.
"Doubt I'd be much fun."
"Well, maybe not as much as when you used to get pissed and try to play arrows, but I'm sure you 'aven't completely lost the capacity to 'ave a good time."
"I dunno," said Pete as she got her jacket. "It's been a while. Usually too much bad shite on me head to 'ave any fun." John slung an arm around her shoulder as they left his flat.
"Well, I've 'ad me share of bad shite as well, an' I always have a good time." Pete shook her head.
"How do you do it, John?"
"Because," said John softly. "If I didn't laugh at the madness, I'd go bloody insane." Pete's eyes gave him the sad, sympathetic look that she was so good at, and John abruptly changed the subject. "Remember when we went t'see Night of the Living Dead, and you got so scared you hid in me armpit?" Pete bit her lip, trying not to smile.
"Yeah. That was a good time." John grinned.
"Well if you can remember that, all 'ope hasn't been lost." He guided her into the pub. "Let's get good and pissed, luv."
"Let's," said Pete.
xxx xxx xxx
"Since when were you any good at this game, Wisdom?"
Pete threw the third dart, hitting the bullseye along with the other two. "I've 'ad seven years to practice, Constantine." She winked at him, going to the board to pull off her darts and mark her score. "And it looks like I've just beaten you."
John shrugged. "I let you win."
"Oh please," Pete said, rolling her eyes.
John wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go back to the table. I'm not pissed enough yet."
"'ow can you tell?"
"I can still feel me legs."
Pete laughed, walking back to the booth with John. He slid in beside her and signaled to the barmaid to bring them another round. Pete looked over at John, then slid closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad I came out tonight, John. I am 'aving a good time."
"Glad to 'ear that, luv. I am, too." John put his arm around her, pulling her closer.
Pete nestled against him. "You know, you smell really good."
John blinked. "I smell like cigarettes and alcohol."
"I know," Pete said, her tone bordering on dreamy. The barmaid brought two pints of Guinness to the table, and Pete sat up, reaching for hers. John grabbed her hand, stopping her. Pete glared at him. "Wot?"
"You think I smell good, Wisdom. You're cut off."
Pete giggled. "You do smell good, John." She winked. "And you look pretty good, too."
John blinked. "Are you messin' with me head?"
"No," Pete said, slipping out of his grasp and grabbing her drink. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you've been giving me the brush off since I showed up on Muir, and now, well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting."
Pete took a drink of her Guinness. "I'm just having a good time, is all." She winked at John. "Nothin' personal."
John looked her over for a moment, taking her in. He'd was sick of "curbing" anything. "Sod it," he muttered, grabbing Pete and pulling her to him. She squeaked, freezing in his arms before returning the kiss with a passion rivaling John's own.
After a moment, he pulled back, looking down at Pete. Her lips were slightly swollen, her cheeks flushed, and her breathing heavy. "Luv…" John said softly, leaning back in to kiss her again. He stopped when he felt Pete's hands pushing him away.
"No…"
John's whole body tensed. "I'm bloody sick of this, Wisdom. It's fuckin' obvious what we feel for each other. Why do you keep fighting it?"
"Because I don't just want some fuck, John. Dammit, stop being such a horny bastard all the time!"
"Is that really what you think?" John demanded. "Bloody 'ell, Wisdom, haven't you figured out by now I'm in this for more!" Pete opened her mouth to say something, but snapped it shut. John glared, standing up. "I guess not." He threw some money on the table. "This should pay for the tab," he snarled, grabbing his coat and storming out of the pub.
"John, wait!" Pete yelled, running out of the pub after him. She chased after him, grabbing his arm. "Stop, please!"
He turned sharply, sneering at her. "Wot the fuck do you want?"
Pete twisted his arm, slamming him against the outside wall of the pub with more strength than he would've guessed she had. She pulled his face down to hers, kissing him hard. John's initial shock wore off quickly, and he grabbed her, kissing her until he couldn't breath anymore.
Pete looked up at him, panting. "I want you, John," she said softly.
"I want you, too."
John cupped her face in his hands. "Let's go home, luv."
Pete took one of his hands, giving it a squeeze, and they walked back to his flat.
xxx xxx xxx
John picked Pete up as they walked into the flat and brought her into the bedroom, dropping her unceremoniously on the bed. She looked up at him, her eyes hooded, and John shivered. He'd been waiting seven years for this moment…
He descended on her, kissing her with the same passion he'd shown her at the club. This time she offered him no resistance, moaning against his mouth. John tugged desperately at her clothes, wanting nothing else between them.
It took him a moment to register the sound of the phone ringing. When he did, he slumped. "Bloody 'ell. Doesn't that just figure…"
"Ignore it," Pete said, nibbling his ear. "I need you right now."
John tried, but the ringing continued. "Sorry, luv, I 'ave to get it. They're obviously not going to 'ang up, and it's breakin' me concentration." He pushed up, kissing the tip of his nose.
"Constantine. Wot? Calm down…Gemma…Gemma, I can't understand you. Slow down. WOT?! I'll be right there. Don't panic. I'll be right there."
John hung up the phone and then peeked his head back into the bedroom. "Pete, I'm sorry. That was me niece. She in a spot of trouble. I'll be back as soon as I can, luv, I promise."
"You have a niece?" Pete asked.
"Yeah." He gave Pete a quick kiss, cursing his rotten luck. "I'll be back as soon as I can," he said again.
"I'll be waiting," Pete said.
John whimpered, kissing her again before running out of the flat.
xxx xxx xxx
Gemma Masters threw open her door. "John Constantine, what are you doing at my door at this ungodly hour?!"
John blinked. "You called me, Gemma…"
"No, I didn't. Until just a few moments ago, I was happily sleeping." She wrinkled up her nose. "Have you been drinking?"
John's face grew pale as realization sunk in. "Pete…" he said.
"Who's Pete?" Gemma asked.
"I left Pete at me flat, an'…Bloody 'ell."
"Why is there someone named Pete in your flat at this time of night."
John ignored her question. "Sorry to wake you, Gemma. I'll call later." He ran down the hall, hoping he could make it back home in time.
Gemma shook her head and closed her door.
xxx xxx xxx
"No…" John murmured as he got to his flat and found the door partially open. He burst in, scanning the room for Pete, but finding nothing. He grew cold as he realized that there'd been some sort of struggle there. He glanced towards the bedroom, and what he saw there made all the color draw from his face.
The carcass of an now-unrecognizable animal lay on his bed, slaughtered in some ritualistic form. On the wall, the animal's blood had been used to scrawl out a message:
"She's mine, and soon you will be, too."
John's jaw set tight. He would not loose Pete, not after all he'd been through to get her.
John Constantine would find Nergal.
And when he did, he would have his revenge.
xxx xxx xxx
Pete swam slowly back to consciousness, not remembering where she was. It was dark, and she was lying on her side on a cold concrete floor. She tried to move and realized her hands and feet were tied. She was shivering uncontrollably, being clad only in a t-shirt and her underwear.
Pete rolled over on her back and tried to figure out where she was and what the bloody hell was going on. She swiveled her head around and discerned she was in a warehouse of some kind, bare of anything except a few dark shapes in one corner.
She willed herself not to panic. She'd been in worse situations before, with Black Air and Excalibur. She'd be fine. She just had to find a way to get herself untied, and she'd be fine.
Something wet, cold and sticky touched Pete's cheek. She rolled onto her other side and came face-to-face with a dead body that had had its throat torn open. Its blood was leaking out slowly, soaking the floor where Pete lay.
Pete scrambled back, her stomach rebelling at the sight and the feel of the blood. Okay, so maybe 'fine' was an overstatement. She had to get out of here.
Pete used all her strength to sit up and start pulling at her bonds. They were heavy rope and they bit into her thin wrists. She felt a bit of her own blood mix in with what was already smeared on her. Get a sodding grip, Wisdom, she ordered herself. She had to think, remember what had happened. John had left the flat, Pete had been drifting off to sleep, and then she'd heard someone come back. She called out for John, got no answer and then...
"Oh, fuck," Pete muttered. "Fuck it all." She couldn't walk with her ankles tied, but she could crawl, and so she did. Panic was slowly but surely overriding common sense, and Pete was nearly to the center of the warehouse in her mad scramble for freedom when the lights blazed on.
"Comfortable, my dear?" inquired a voice from the shadows. Pete froze. The figure who stepped forward was one she'd never expected to see again, at least in the flesh. He grinned at her. "I certainly 'ope you are." Pete felt her heart stop beating.
"Nergal."
"Right on the first try, dear. Good for you." Pete spat at him.
"Bloody bastard!" Nergal approached her, reaching out a clawed hand.
"Now, now. I go out of me way to be nice to you, and this is what I get." He lifted Pete up by the back of her shirt, turning her back towards the body, which was just one of a pile. A large, bloody, fly-covered pile.
"My god..." said Pete shakily.
"Afraid He has absolutely nothing t'do with this," Nergal said, laughing. "I'm trying to be hospitable, dear. I left you friends to play with, and you had to get shy." He tossed Pete back onto the pile of corpses. "Now you just sit there and get aquainted. Or else I might have to spank you." Pete felt the rotting flesh against her own, smelled the stench in her nose and tasted it in her mouth. She lost it.
"Get them off me! It's 'orrible!"
Nergal smiled widely, showing his improbable number of teeth. "That's the kind of appreciation I like to hear." Pete scrambled off the pile, her chest heaving.
"I'll bloody kill you!" Nergal tsked.
"Little things like yourself shouldn't make those kind of threats." He examined a burned patch on his chest. "Not that you didn't try, eh poppet? You're a feisty one. I wasn't expecting that." Pete remembered shooting Nergal with her hot knives. She also remembered them having virtually no effect. "It's been a delight getting to know you, dear," said Nergal. "And I'm sure it will be a delight raping you to death in front of Constantine, when he shows up. But for now..." He picked Pete up again and carried her, squirming, into a small room off the main warehouse. Inside was a variety of bondage harnesses and torture instruments. Nergal hung her bound hands over a hook and strapped her in securely. "I just need a little of your blood. As an impetus for your poor little magus, you know. I do want him properly out of his head with terror by the time he finds you."
"Fuck you!" Pete spat. Nergal met her eyes, and Pete felt chilled to the core of her soul. Nergal's eyes were obsidian disks that held all the life and horror of a raging inferno.
"There'll be a time for that, make no mistake dear." Nergal picked up a knife. "Now where do you prefer? The wrist? Stomach?" He approached her, and Pete felt her heart threaten to beat out of her chest. She couldn't keep control any longer. She started screaming.
xxx xxx xxx
John had searched for Pete everywhere and every way he could think of, but he'd still found nothing. He knew Nergal was shielding her somehow, but John still felt like a failure. Kit had left him because he was a danger to be around, and now those fears had been realized--just for another woman.
John didn't even begin to consider the possibility that Pete might be dead. While he didn't doubt that Nergal would want to kill her, he figured the demon would want to use her to torment John a bit first. Besides, somehow John just knew she wasn't dead. He could still sense her being alive, could feel it deep in his bones.
He paced his small flat, trying to think of anything he hadn't already covered. He'd contacted everyone he knew that could be of help, cast every spell he could think of that might be useful, and even physically searched quite a few places that would be prime candidates for a demonic hideout. He'd turned up nothing.
John stopped pacing, clenching his fist tight enough for his nail to dig into his palms. "Where the fuck are you, ya bleedin' coward?!" he yelled out into nothingness. "Don't you even have the guts to show yourself you soddin' piece of shite?"
The room grew cold, and John's shelves began to shake, the books seemingly throwing themselves to the ground. "Bloody show-off," John muttered, ducking as a book came soaring towards his head.
The door started shaking, making a very loud banging noise as it did. Clouds of smoke billowed from around the door, filling the room with a foul stench. John went towards the door, but stopped short when a piece of paper was slid under it. He grabbed the paper, scanning to quickly. It was a simple message, with only the words "She's here" and an address. John ran to the door, throwing it open to see what he could find.
What he saw both chilled and angered him. Blood was smeared on the door, and John knew instinctively it was Pete's. In the center of the blood was a spike, and what John saw dangling from it made him grow pale. It was a pentacle--the one he'd given Pete back on Muir. He snatched it off the door, clutching it tightly in his hand as he made a vow.
If it was the last thing John Constantine ever did, he would make Nergal pay.
xxx xxx xxx
Pete struggled against her bonds, distressed to find that Nergal had fastened her in such a way that she couldn't use her hot knives.
Nergal had chained her to an altar, and Pete was smart enough to know what that meant--the demonic bastard intended to sacrifice her. She struggled more, but then stopped with a sigh, realizing that she had no chance of breaking free. She hoped John would hurry up and come for her, though part of her was afraid of what would happen once he did.
"Go on, move a bit more," Nergal said from somewhere in the shadows. "I like it. It's especially nice in those pretty new togs I've bought you..."
Pete whipped her head towards the sound of Nergal's voice. "Fuck you, arsehole."
"Now that's no way to say thank you when someone's bought you a present. I'll have to teach you some better manners." Nergal gave her a sadistic smile. "I do however, have some good news for you. Your darling Constantine should be here soon."
Pete narrowed her eyes. "Good. He'll kill you."
Nergal laughed. "I don't think so. As a matter of fact, I'm going to kill him." Nergal approached her, leaning over her and rubbing her bare arm. "It's a pity that you won't get to watch, but I'm afraid you'll be long dead by then."
Pete sneered. "John will save me. And you will die. He defeated you before, and he's stronger now. You have no chance."
"Please. Constantine owes his victory to dumb luck alone. This time, he will not get the better of me." He stepped back. "But in the mean time, why don't you squirm a bit more? It was getting me oh so ready for the main event..."
Pete glared at him as she willed her body to go completely still. Nergal simply laughed. He picked up a bottle of scotch, running a thumb over the label. "I'll have my fun with you, kill your little boyfriend, and then have myself a nice drink. What a wonderful evening this will be."
Pete said nothing, still glaring at Nergal. John would save her. She knew it…
xxx xxx xxx
John looked up at the address Nergal had given him. It was a rotting warehouse. "'ow bloody original," John muttered. He opened the door cautiously, knowing that Nergal would have left a few surprises for him. Nothing was ever easy.
Sure enough, as soon as he stepped into the dimness two snarling hounds, similar to the ones he'd encountered in the sewers came forward, their jaws dribbling as they sighted a human. John's every instinct screamed at him to run, but he stood very still, letting the dogs get within sniffing distance.
"Take a bite," he told them. "I guarantee you won't like it." The closer dog cocked his head, and John took the opportunity to reach out and slice his palm open on a jagged piece of glass that had once been a window. He held out the wound to the dog, who smelled it.
The dogs reared back, whimpering, and John let out a breath he'd been holding. He'd gambled that Nergal had given him enough blood so he smelled unappetizing. He was just glad he'd been right.
John walked on slowly, the smell of rotten meat eating at his nostrils. After another few steps he realized it wasn't meat but human flesh. "Bloody wonderful," he muttered. He took his handkerchief out and wrapped up his hand, flicking his lighter so he could see. A clear trail of blood lead through the warehouse and up a flight of rusty metal stairs to a loft above. More of Pete's blood. John felt his anger flare again. He started up the stairs, his lighter becoming useless as a compliment of candles lit around an altar came into view. John felt his heart unclench as he saw Pete lying, still alive, strapped to the top of it.
"John!" she cried out. "John get out of 'ere, it's a trap!" John stopped at the top of the stairs.
"Never stopped me before, luv." He heard a shuffling to Pete's right, in the shadows, and saw Nergal come forth.
"Constantine," he hissed. John took out a cigarette and lit it.
"'ello, Nergal. Still a drama queen, I see." Nergal smiled thinly.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to her, Constantine?" He reached out a clawed hand and ran it down Pete's cheek. John saw panic rise in her eyes as she jerked her head away.
"I 'ave a pretty good idea," said John levelly. Nergal smiled wider.
"And you also know you're powerless to stop me…right?" John shrugged.
"You know, Nergal, after all these years I really don't give a shite what you do or don't do. I don't care about the tart, really. I just didn't want to disappoint you by not showin' up for yer big number." Pete jerked against her chains.
"Constantine, you fucking bastard!" Nergal hissed.
"You're lying." John flicked his cigarette.
"You an' I both know I'm not, mate. Now if you're gonna shag 'er, best get on with it. I ain't got all night."
"NO!" Nergal shouted. "You're going to suffer! You hear me? And so is she!" He bent down and kissed Pete hard on the lips, shoving his tongue deep into her mouth. Pete screamed, chained legs kicking wildly. Nergal jerked back, hand at his mouth. "You bit me, you little whore!" he yelled, slapping her hard. He looked down at his palm. "Blood…I'm bleeding?" He let out a roar. "I don't bleed!"
John started to laugh as black blood poured from Nergal's wounded tongue. He smiled widely, shaking his head. "Nergal, you stupid git," he chuckled. "'aven't you learned you shouldn't kiss people you 'aven't been introduced to?" His grin thinned into the sadistic mask that Nergal had seen before. "After all," John said, "you never know where they've been."
Nergal gripped his stomach suddenly, and screamed as if his insides were on fire. He jerked around the altar wildly, scattering candles, knives and the sacrificial items. John dropped his cigarette and his grin and ran to Pete, who was still trying to get out of her chains. "Easy, luv," he said, unfastening her shackles. She sat up and slapped him across the face, much harder than she had on Muir. John stumbled backwards. "Wot was that for?!" Pete stood up and advanced towards him, hot knives glowing in her hands.
"You were gonna leave me for him, Constantine." John held up his hands.
"No I bloody wasn't! I came 'ere an' risked life an' limb, didn't I?" Nergal screamed again, falling into the fetal position and twitching. Pete jerked her head.
"Wot's wrong with 'im, then?" John smiled.
"'e took a dose of the wrong medicine, luv. Now you 'ave to run, before anything I 'aven't planned for happens." Pete's eyes grew soft."I'm not leavin' you, John. I won't. I just won't." John nodded.
"Guess it's not a good idea to be runnin' around the streets of London at this hour…especially dressed like a dominatrix." Pete glared.
"For yer information, this was his idea." John took the bottle of scotch off the table next to the altar and stood over Nergal.
"So you thought to kidnap me girlfriend and 'ave your way with her, did you?" he inquired.
"What…have…you…done to me?" Nergal gasped. Vomit was pooled under his head and blood was still dribbling steadily from his mouth.
"'ow do you feel now that you've done that, mate?" asked John. "Was it everything you 'oped for?" He nudged Nergal with his shoe and Nergal moaned, too weak any longer to scream. "It 'urts, doesn't it, Nergal you bastard?" John said softly, his voice like a knife. "But I assure you, mate…wot you're feelin' right now is nothin' compared to the righteous hell I'm goin' to rain on you. You're sufferin', sure, but that ain't enough for me. Me, I'm a bastard too. An' us bastards require somethin' more." Nergal's hateful glare met John's icy blue gaze.
"Burn in Hell, John Constantine!" John turned the bottle upside down over Nergal's body and then took out his lighter.
"You first, mate." There was a whoosh as blue flames engulfed Nergal's body, and a gut-wrenching shriek of agony from the demon. John turned to Pete, wrapping his coat and his arms around her. "You alright, luv?" Pete looked up at him, then back at Nergal's roasting carcass.
"How?" she said. John shrugged.
"'ad a feeling Nergal might come after you. I put a spell on you, that night after you'd been cryin' an' fell asleep. Make it so anything less than 'uman that touched you in…that…way would get a jolt of what was comin' to 'im." Pete frowned.
"And you didn't tell me?!"
"Didn't think it was important at the time, luv," said John. Pete pushed away from him.
"Well it would've been bloody nice to know when I thought that creature was goin' ta rape an' sacrifice me!" John's eyes grew dark.
"I never would've let 'im, Pete. I'd die before 'e'd get that far." Pete shook her head once, then came back to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, putting her head on his shoulders as Nergal's flames slowly went out.
"You saved me."
"Nothin' to it, luv."
"I'm tired, John. I want to go 'ome." John nodded.
"Me, too. You go wait downstairs an' I'll make sure me crispy friend 'ere is taken care of." Pete looked hesitant. "e's dead, luv," said John. "I'll be fine." Pete nodded and went slowly down the stairs in her bare feet. John turned back to Nergal, who was now merely smoking. "Looks like I win again," John said, coming over to the body and kicking it to make sure Nergal was really dead. "And you, you old bugger…"
Nergal's body jolted and John suddenly felt a sharp, hot pain in his left arm. Nergal's burned body reared up, still alive, a sacrificial knife in hand. John was on the floor, no defense within reach, with the charred demon standing above him preparing to drive the knife home into his heart.
"Oy," said Pete from the head of the stairs. "Leave me boyfriend alone, you bloody toerag." Nergal's head exploded in a flash of hot knives, showering John with a light mist of blood and brains. He turned to see Pete standing, hands still poised to shoot. John smiled broadly.
"Luv! You saved me!" Pete lowered her hands and let out a breath.
"Should've done that tosser in seven years ago." John started to laugh, then winced.
"Ow! Bloody 'ell, 'e cut me." Pete hurried over to him, pressing her hand against the wound.
"Let's get you to a 'ospital." John shook his head as she helped him home.
"No. No 'ospital. Just me own bed will do nicely, thanks." Pete stopped at the top of the stairs, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him hard.
"I love you, John." John grinned. He was feeling better already.
xxx xxx xxx
John leaned heavily on Pete as she helped him into the flat and to the bed. He winced dramatically, clutching his wound. Pete looked at him softly, pushing his hair away from his forehead. "Does it hurt?"
John nodded, giving her a pitiful expression. "It 'urts a lot."
Pete kissed him lightly. "I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" John called after her. Pete didn't respond, but came back a moment later with a washcloth and a bowl of warm water. She reach up, undoing John's tie and unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it open. She dipped the cloth in the water, wiping the blood off his chest. John whimpered.
"Does that hurt, luv?" Pete asked.
"It stings a bit," John said. "But don't stop."
Pete finished cleaning his wound, noticing that the bleeding had stopped. She kissed the mark, and John closed his eyes, letting out a ragged breath. "I owe you my life," Pete said, slipping her hand into his.
John opened his eyes slowly, leveling them with Pete's. "I owe you mine, too."
"Wot do you mean?"
John smiled at her. "You've made it worth living again."
Pete gaped. "John…"
"You know, luv, if you really want to make me feel better in me injured state, you could just shag me."
Pete stood, and John braced himself, preparing for her to yell at him. What he didn't expect was for her to slowly slip off the outfit Nergal had dressed her in. John stared at her, his mouth hanging open. Pete grinned seductively. "Like wot you see?"
"Do I ever." John held his arms out, and Pete moved into them, kissing him deeply.
John sighed against her lips as he rolled over with him. Sure, he'd had to fight a demon bent on having his twisted revenge against him, but John had to say that, all in all, it had been a good day. Pete moved, nipping at the spot right beneath his ear, and John groaned.
It had been a good day. And it was just getting better…