From: http://los-delfines.livejournal.com/1260.html

They were long past the "you're my best mate" phase, but still not yet at the "the world is spinning and I can't get up" phase. With the current rate of drinking however, it was due to arrive soon enough. Chas did not remember why were they drinking, or at least why he was. John rarely required clear reasons for this activity. Now he was sitting beside him on the couch, trying to light another cigarette. It was a second try. At the previous one, he burnt his fingers and cussed a lot, and Chas laughed until he nearly puked. He managed to stop himself at the right moment though, solely with the thought of Renee giving him hell for that, later. They were at her living room, after all. Their living room.

He looked out the window. It was nearly morning. Why were they still drinking? Probably because there was still booze. He closed his eyes. Too late to stop now, anyway. They didn't have enough time to recuperate to a state fit enough to clean up. So he'll get an earful about missing the toilet bowl and the bottles and that bastard John getting within a mile's distance to their dwelling. Not that John liked getting within a mile's distance of said dwelling, but tonight was one of those rare occasions when Chas managed to convince him. Why did he do that again? He frowned, trying to remember.

- Hah, I beat ye, bastard. - John chuckled, exhaling smoke. Then studied Chas' face. - Don't worry mate, just tell the missus it's all my fault, she can't hate me more than she already does.
- All of it? - Chas grinned. He couldn't think of anything witty right now, but knew that the generalization had potential.
- All of it. - John took it on, with a sweeping motion of his hand. He nearly knocked a beer bottle off the coffee table, caught it, then brought to his mouth for a swig. - Tell her... tell her I brought booze and hookers.
- Why hookers? - Chas frowned in concentration.
- For fun. Are ye daft? - John drawled, bottle and cigarette exchanging places at his lips.
- No, why say that. We made drink-mess. Not fuck-mess. - Chas explained.
- Ye thinking a lot today, anything wrong? - John snorted. - And we can take care o' that other mess.

Chas somehow missed the sight of it, but there was the feeling of John's hand groping for his zipper, casually. He didn't react right away, blinking, somehow refusing to believe it was happening. He looked down, to make sure that he isn't making anything up, just in time to witness the fingers plunging in, taking a hold of his dick.
- L-lay it off, asshole! - He stammered, grabbing the hand, but still too mesmerized to pull. Or push.
- Why? - John used his indecisiveness for full-length stroking, and it felt... like jacking off felt. A rough male hand stimulating his cock. And it wasn't bad at all.

The bottle was gone somewhere, Chas noted absentmindedly, and the cigarette was in his other hand, the bastard, he was grinning, looking all sly and cool. How did he manage looking like that while jerking a guy off, Chas thought, his heart pounding. That was the bloody curse of him. He was always the awkward sidekick tagging along. Thick and spooked out by all that crap John pretended to be wiping out by a bloody sideways jerk of his pelvis. And Chas knew his friend swings both ways, mostly from crude innuendo and jokes, but he knew him, and could determine half a truth when he hears one. Sometimes, he even felt a pang of jealousy, along the lines of "if it's already a guy, why isn't it me? Am I that unattractive and worthless and only fit for driving you around, ungrateful tosser?" but he would immediately brush it aside as ridiculous, as he did Renee's accusations. The only thing he lacked in his already miserable life is being another of John's girlfriends. Right. He was fucked enough already by being just his friend.

But that was not the point, the sexual freedom or lack thereof. All of it together was, now that he was staring down onto that hand, being the slow spineless one again, the one who lives under a heel, who never has the guts. It was his own fault, and he could change that behavior any time, he thought all of a sudden. Or at least, whenever alcohol gave him the courage and the lightness. Bah. He blinked, and licked his lips, breath heavy. He was now erect in John's hand, and the man was going on stroking, now dumping the cigarette butt into an already overflowing ashtray with the other hand, and then looking back at him... daring? Yes, that. It made Chas' blood boil. That look in his eyes, self satisfied, sure in himself, and somehow inviting. It was easy, or perhaps the booze made it feel so, taking action, being bold. Easier than stammering and trying to push the man away, he found.

He didn't stop to think about the significance of that thought. Didn't even want to. He pushed John down onto the couch, roughly, clumsily, but one could only be that graceful after so much beer. And he didn't give a toss anyway, as he kissed him, and it didn't really feel like kissing. Proper kissing should not involve being prickled by stubble. The lips you kiss should not taste of alcohol and cigarettes, should not fight you for control, and the body under you definitely shouldn't be sporting an erection.

He faux-kissed John some more, running his hands over him, feeling like in a very strange dream, until finally deciding on turning him over. That elicited a groan, which warmed Chas' heart. He enjoyed being the one in control, he found. John didn't truly struggle, but was far from melting under him in a welcoming puddle, either. Determined to make the fucking official, he tugged the other man's pants down, hearing fabric tearing, and ignoring the muffled protests. Then he pulled John's shirt up, surprising himself by kissing his back and kneading his buttocks gently before attempting to push in. Not that the access proved easy. He wasn't used to doing it that way, and now found he has to go through a frustrating trial-and-error process, not dissimilar to drunken insertion of a key into a lock. Not that the unsuccessful attempts weren't fun in and of themselves, his cock rubbing against the man's backside, the man shuddering under him, moving, trying to help.

This wasn't proper fucking, just as the kissing wasn't proper kissing. It was pleasant, but more like a friendly rough-and-tumble than sex. A friendly rough-and-tumble with benefits, because one wasn't supposed to come from that, and Chas felt that he's damn nearly going to, pretty soon. And he was only rubbing over him, no more. When he did get in, shallowly, it was almost by mistake. John hissed, spitting: - S' dry, ye moron! - And Chas pulled out, afraid to truly hurt him, only to be urged back with: - No-no, screw that. - He wasn't sure whether this was a statement of disregard or simply an invitation to do just that, but he didn't have to be asked twice. He pushed in, deep, groaning with the unfamiliar feeling of rather dry tightness, enjoying not only the physical, but the emotional part of being inside him, taking him. Finally?

It was surreal, laying on top of his friend, who was moaning in the rhythm of his thrusts, the heat of him, too much of it and the friction so that he was over the edge in what felt like an embarrassingly short minute. He bucked against him, holding on to his already bunched and crumpled shirt, and then he was screaming and crying and sliding out and down, onto the floor. And he sat on the carpet, little shivers of the orgasm still passing through him, not daring to look up at John, wiping his face with his sleeve, so that when he gathers the courage, he would at least not look like a crybaby. John's hand was what brought him from the near-trance then, fingers running through his hair. The man was laying on his side now, smiling, stroking himself with one hand.

- I'm... sorry. - Chas said, staring at him.
- Nah, I wanted that. But if ye help me some more, it'll be real nice. - John grinned.
Chas took a deep breath, and reached forward, his fingers touching John's as the man was taking his hand off. For a moment, he imagined taking his hand gently and suckling on his fingers, but the impulse passed unrealized, and he shivered and looked away.
- It's okay. - John whispered, touching his cheek. - It's okay.
And Chas told himself to stop the fooling around and do it, like a... man, and he stroked his dick, gathering enough courage to run a hand over his chest while at it, and the man was moaning, thrusting into his hand, not seeming nearly as self-conscious as Chas was. Until he came, throwing his head back, and Chas thought that yes, now they really do have fuck-mess to clean up, and it hit him like a sledgehammer. What would he tell Renee.

Then John stroked his shoulder, eyes narrowed. - We have a couple more hours. C'mere, old man.
Chas climbed onto the couch again, ending up in a weary lover's embrace with his long-time friend. - Mental, all that. - He muttered. - Oh fuck you.
- Ye already did. - John yawned. - Remember what ye tell her?
- Ye brought booze and hookers. - Chas snorted. - It's stupid and will never work.
- Absolutely. - John agreed. They chuckled, and in the following near-morning silence, they fell asleep.

>>77376
Nice.

>>77376

God have I been waiting for Constantine/Chas, ever since I read 'Chas the Knowledge'. Thank you, anon.

>>77401

No problem, there is very few Cas/Constantine fics. I'm not entirely sure why, it's hinted in the comics they had/have stronger feelings for each other.

OH GOD finallllllyyyyy

I can't understand why there's barely any porn for this series. You wouldn't even have to try very hard. The material's practically there already.

Here's another from here: http://shadowed-tiger.livejournal.com/3627.html

There are times in every bloke's life when he needs the help of his mates. Lucky for me that I've never been the type who's too proud to ask for help when he needs it, especially as I've needed it more often than most and had to ask odder favors. I'd prefer it if it usually worked out better for those I asked, but I'm not one to quibble at necessity either; wasn't like I came out of it all smelling like a rose either.

But if I'd had more of a choice, I wouldn't have called Chas in on this one. He was probably the most reliable bloke I knew, but that was all the more reason to pick someone else, someone I could spare if things went to shit. But mates were thin on the ground these days and this wasn't something I could use just anyone for, so Chas it was.

He had the usual look on his face when he showed up at the door to my flat: an expression combining concern with a prissy sort of anxiety. Typical Chas – always complaining like an old woman about me using him, echoing someone else's words as though he really believed them. Bollocks. The truth was that he liked it: liked feeling needed, liked being on the edge of things that felt important and maybe dangerous without being in danger himself. Lucky for him that I was wise to his act; otherwise I might have pissed off and found some other sucker long ago.

“What's this about, John?” He peered over my shoulder, staring around my flat as though he'd never seen it before. He had, but I didn't have people over often, not even him. Better, safer, to meet at the pub, somewhere with the comfort of a crowd. Less mess to clean up after, too.

He'd asked me a question, but I ignored it. That wasn't anything new; I ignored about half the things Chas asked me. Usually either he was better off not knowing or I couldn't be arsed to answer. This time, it was mostly the former. It was hard for him to ask questions when I was kissing him, anyway, slipping my tongue in his mouth when he opened it to protest.

Chas didn't relax or kiss me back, but I hadn't expected him to, not at first. It took him a long moment to push me away and that was good enough in my books, proof that I still knew how to kiss.

“What are you doing? You know I don't -” He was sputtering now, in full heterosexual panic.

I gave him my best serious look even though I wanted to smirk, pushing away the need for a smoke solely because I didn't intend to talk that long. “Told you on the phone that I needed you for something.”

“So go find someone else!” Chas waved his hands, gestures wide enough that he hit one hand on the wall. He didn't seem to register the impact, too caught up in his protests. “Go to the pub and pick someone up! Not me!”

I shook my head. “Can't.” I didn't pause to explain, even if the implications of that single word pricked my pride. So did this whole mess and I didn't want to give Chas time to think. I pressed against him for another kiss, giving him the choice of pushing me away again and leaving, or staying, giving into urges he'd had for twenty years, even offering him the flimsy excuse of helping me out as he had so many times.

No mystery which he'd choose. Who knew how long it had even been for the poor bastard? He wasn't so desperate as to help me unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, but I wasn't so far gone I couldn't manage that. Dead sober, even, much as I regretted it.

Chas tasted familiar, his dick faintly redolent of seat leather and sweat, like the inside of the cab I'd been in more times than I could count. He had his eyes closed now and a hand over them as though that still wasn't enough to block the knowledge of who was sucking his prick. Probably wasn't; Renee couldn't do it so well, though neither of us was usually suicidal enough to tell her that. I could have insisted he look at me, but didn't push it. I'd been pushing things my whole bloody life, but it would be too easy to make him run and I couldn't have that.

I could have taken less time, been more perfunctory about it. I didn't have to use my tongue, didn't have to hum around him and squeeze his balls, definitely didn't have to slide a careful, lubed finger into his ass, just probing to see if he'd let me. But for all I'm a bastard, I'm a considerate bastard, at least in some things. And I had a reputation to protect; couldn't have anyone, not even Chas, who didn't have much to compare it with, thinking I was bad in the sack.

He didn't even notice the candles; the charcoal on the floor and the scent of recent magic hanging in the air like stale booze after a bender passed Chas by completely as I led him to the bedroom, pants left by the door in a forgotten heap. His eyes were all for my unmade bed and his hands were all over me finally, fumbling like a teenager who hadn't a clue what the fuck he was doing. Probably didn't, but that didn't matter. At least he'd abandoned his reticence, was actually touching me. I knew I couldn't imagine what mental contortions it took, what bargains he'd made with himself to be in my bed now instead of running back to his wife, and I was glad I couldn't. I didn't want to know; there's some things best left a mystery.

I didn't give either of us too much time to think, nearly falling on the bed beside him, kissing and touching with the enthusiasm of the younger man I'd been when we'd met. Plenty of time for regret later; we both knew that far too well to waste time on it now.

I wanted to fuck him, but wasn't sure if he'd let me. One finger was one thing; everyone did that now. When he tensed at a second, I was willing to let it go. Plenty of other ways to get off. But Chas looked up at me, panting, and shook his head when I tried to pull them out. “If you're going to do it, do it right.” Maybe he was getting adventurous after so many years of married life, or maybe he was just being his usual stubborn self, hard to get going but a bitch to shake after. Maybe he just wanted to know what he'd been missing.

So I kept going, taking more time than I wanted stretching and preparing. I knew he'd never done this before and probably never would again; best to make it good for him, something worth remembering since we were too damn sober to forget. I only glanced at his eyes once and wished I hadn't. That bloody expression - something like wonder or maybe even awe, something that made me feel like an arsehole just for seeing it. Maybe it was just that someone wanted him, or that it was me who was about to fuck him after so many years when he'd never let himself think about wanting it. No bloke should look at someone with that kind of trust and especially not at me; too bloody private to share and I always bollocks things up anyhow.

I looked away, concentrated on what I was doing, looking at him but not directly, eyes sliding right past. And then I was inside and he was virgin-tight, hot and grunting and protesting, eyes squeezed shut instead of staring and it was safe again.

Fucking was about like it always was with someone new: all sweat and awkwardness only made worth it by the moment when we finally got it right, bodies suddenly moving in sync and every move sweet, perfect in a way nothing else is. And then that's gone and it's panting and frantic thrusting, clawing at sheets and racing for something just out of reach.

Then it was over, sooner than I wanted it to be. I knew what came next; I wasn't surprised that Chas didn't quite look at me as he stood, legs shaking, and headed for my bathroom. He hadn't said anything, not a word since we'd finished, though he'd been urging me on there at the end. He hadn't told me not to ask him for any more favors, but we both knew things could never be the same between us.

But that was the whole bloody point, wasn't it? The whole reason it had to be Chas. Just the sex wasn't enough; I had to give up something I really valued, trash one of the good things left in my life. I'd known what I was doing, but I was surprised at how lonely I felt when he'd gone, hand shaking as I reached for the pack of Silk Cuts beside the bed. Always hard to lose a good mate, even when you deserved it. Maybe especially then.

I took my time lighting up and took a long drag before I looked up. I was still naked, but I didn't give a damn, just stared straight at the demon Chas had never seen watching us with a smirk that said I was a cold bastard who didn't care what he'd just pissed away. “There's your bloody sacrifice, wanker. Now it's my turn.”

So I guess this would be a lot like the last season of Supernatural? Fighting angels and demons and whatnot?

>>78068

What? No. I mean they exist, but Hellblazer isn't really about fighting anything specifically.

>>78068 Nah, see Hellblazer always been more about the stuff going on around him than it's about him. It involves demons sometimes, or other things, but it's as much social commentary as it is adventure stories.

John's not even the star of his own stories, which would piss him off properly.

Its still alive?! glad I checked so with JL-Dark out what are the odds of more Constantine. and if I remmember there was a pic of John with Nightwing.

Sadly the only Constantine content comes from the comics themselves and it's few and far between.

Here's all the canon rule 34 of Constantine. I actually combed through all of the comics for this.

Last one

You are a king among anons, sir.

I love you

Good lord, I really do hope Del Toro ends up making that Dark Justice League movie thing, because John is supposed to be the main protagonist. And if so, I want Paul Bettany.

How come Vertigo's (was) so fucking shy they can't show some gay sex?

>>92071
They did, just not really in Hellblazer

(spoiler'd for unrelated)