The Consequences of Running (Aren't so Bad)
The Consequences of Running (Aren't So Bad)
NC-17
Pre-Roche. Rorschach fingers Dan in an alleyway.
Prompt is Alley for mission_insane, originally posted on the kinkmeme.
They're both panting from running ten blocks, and that was excessive for an escape but Nite Owl kept running ahead even though the first few were enough to throw off the gang. Rorschach assumed that Archimedes was in wait nearby, but no, Nite Owl dropped into an empty alleyway, no more refined an escape waiting for them than more running if someone happens to catch up to them. Ordinarily Rorschach enjoys the leverage Nite Owl's carefulness provides during battle, but this is excessive. A pointless use of energy. Humiliating, too, if he's being honest, because retreat when one is outnumbered is tactically sound but going further than necessary is just cowardice dressed up as precaution.
Rorschach may also have scraped himself on the side of a building on the third-to-last block.
"Well, shit," Nite Owl pants. His face is darker than usual, red with exertion. He pushes back his cowl from his face and Rorschach tenses. Daniel's dark hair sticks to his cheeks. "Are you okay?"
I would be if you hadn't-- "Yes. You?"
He nods, then shakes his head and laughs. "Running!" Daniel gestures to his face, and he's still too breathless to really articulate, but Rorschach understands. It's supposed to be a joke. Rorschach doesn't find it very funny. He's less winded than Daniel, and able now to study Daniel's exhaustion, the way he uses the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat left from wearing his cowl. The shape of his tongue as it darts against his lips. It's always dangerous when Daniel unmasks in public, and Rorschach's admonitions never seem to make it through his thick, cowardly skull. (No, he almost chides himself, he's not the coward here.)
Daniel sighs out a long breath and straightens off the wall. "At least we lost them, right?"
"That's optimistic of you, Nite Owl." Daniel peers at him. Rorschach doesn't like that he's still wearing the goggles. "I was under the impression that at some point in your mad dash you were actually running towards something."
Rather than look abashed, Daniel grins. He flips the cowl back into place, erases the softness from his face. The grin is left, a white knife. Rorschach acknowledges that he may still be overheated from the exertion. "Yeah, I kind of ran the wrong way."
"Sloppy," Rorschach says, curt because he wants to laugh. "Very sloppy."
Daniel starts towards him, clearly under the impression that he has the upper hand (Rorschach must have been watching too closely, something he vowed to stop months ago and never quite did). The urge to punch him rises, and Rorschach closes his hand into a fist, lets Daniel watch him close his hand into a fist, lets the muscles in his back and legs tense with the fist. Daniel does not stop, and Rorschach walks into him, pushes him back with his open hand, and it's worth it to see the grin disappear. Nite Owl knocks over a garbage can in his attempt to right himself. The sound rings. A cat bolts out from under his feet, and he's looking after the cat, mouth open, and Rorschach shoves him until he's flat against a wall, and Nite Owl shuts his mouth by biting his lip, and Rorschach still wants to punch him so instead he reaches between Nite Owl's legs and shoves his fingers up behind his balls.
Nite Owl jerks onto his heels. "Wow-Rorschach-?"
Rorschach braces his forearm against Nite Owl's chest, close to his clavicle, not quite a threat: Stay still. He shifts closer and fixes the angle of his hand, then rubs, deliberate and slow, up and back, the heat of Nite Owl's balls radiating against his wrist. Nite Owl cracks his head against the alleyway wall and squirms on his heels. "Ran the wrong way," Rorschach echoes, incredulous. "Pathetic."
Nite Owl moans through his teeth, grabbing at the wall. It's difficult to judge how erect he is with his cup in the way, but Rorschach imagines he can't be very comfortable like this. Good. He could've been comfortable if he'd not run like a maniac through half New York. Slowly, taking his time, Rorschach works his hand further back; his wrist and forearm grind against Nite Owl's crotch as he grinds towards his ass.
Nite Owl grabs Rorschach's shoulder, his neck.
He pushes right against Nite Owl's ass, rubbing quick circles there, up and in, letting the spandex work with him rather than against. Nite Owl's mouth is open, his body taut; his hand clenches against Rorschach's neck, and they stay that way, suspended, Nite Owl whimpering under his breath. The smell of his sweat fills Rorschach's nose, and he leans in, licks at his neck where Daniel can't feel it, thankful for the cowl.
"Fuck-God, Ror..." Daniel jerks against him, face screwed up in concentration. Rorschach's wrist is starting to ache so he slows down, letting Nite Owl's lust amplify each slow, circular stroke against his entrance. Rorschach can imagine what it must feel like, with that painful boundary of spandex and leather between Daniel and Rorschach's fingers. Revels in Daniel's desperation, because it is his victory, his payback.
"You'll have to take off the belt," Rorschach mutters against the cowl. "I haven't. Watched you. Do it. Wouldn't want to cut myself."
Daniel snaps his hand away from Rorschach and fumbles with his belt, breathing through his nose. When the belt takes longer than a few seconds, he curses to himself, makes an unhappy noise when Rorschach pulls his hand away and stands back. "Hang on, it's just..." The belt clicks open and clatters away, and Daniel shoves his pants around his thighs. Rorschach wants to taste the bliss on Daniel's face when his cup falls away, freeing his red erection. They watch each other for a second then, just observing, taking in the moment.
Rorschach refuses to let it sink in and spoil itself. "Turn around." When Daniel hesitates, he snaps, "Turn around now," and is rewarded with a needy jerk of Daniel's hips. He hopes this won't take long. (He would be willing to spend the rest of the night like this.) Daniel obeys, facing the wall and leaning his ass towards Rorschach, obliging, hopeful. His face tilts down, staring at the ground, and Rorschach's not sure why, but he's relieved that he won't have to see any part of Daniel's face.
He steps close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating from Daniel and slips his hand between his buttocks, touches the sensitive flesh of his entrance. Daniel jumps and bites back a low sound, covers his mouth with his hand. With a low warning grunt, Rorschach starts to grind two fingers against Daniel, picking up the same motions as before, the tips of his gloved fingers sliding up inside of Daniel at random. The muscle resists when Rorschach starts to work his fingers deeper inside of him, but he's not daunted, soothing each stroke inward with a slow stroke around the sensitive flesh until Daniel's more accustomed. The moment Rorschach realizes he's fitting his fingers up to two knuckles inside of Daniel, he starts to fuck him with them without pausing, taking him roughly, his own prick throbbing between his legs.
Daniel presses his hips back against him, rutting haphazardly against his fingers, helping him deeper, and then he's up to his last knuckle, hooking his fingers inside of Daniel and grinding, looking for his reaction--and then, with a particularly rough shove, Daniel gasps There! and starts to bite at his glove, trying to hold back his desperate noises.
Rorschach leans a hand against Daniel's hip and pauses, his fingers deep inside of him, the muscles gripping, keeping him there. Part of him wants to make Daniel beg for it, and when he realizes that's what he's waiting for, he starts to fuck him in earnest, making Daniel rock with each of the thrusts, making him feel Rorschach, making him suffer open-mouthed and stupid with lust. Testing, Rorschach reaches his free hand around Daniel's stomach and brushes the swollen head, earning a high-pitched noise of surprise. His glove comes away slick, and he drags that slickness down the underside of Daniel's cock, just once. Just to let him feel it.
Daniel must be close, because the soft noises he was managing to repress are becoming garbled words against his glove, "Rorschach" and "please" and "Jesus" and Rorschach grinds the tips of his fingers at just the right spot, torturing him as long as he can, for as long as Daniel's body will let him.
When Daniel comes, it's quietly, arching and shuddering, his mouth open, head thrown back, but he keeps going until Rorschach is dizzy, wondering how Daniel is still on his feet, how he can stand it, but then Daniel is on his knees, done, loose and flushed. He breathes out Rorschach's name like he is the most amazing thing in the world, and Rorschach shudders violently, turns his head away. Rorschach is suddenly aware of how aroused he is, and of how obvious it is, his erection jutting against his pinstripe pants, noticeable even through the coat. He steps away from Daniel.
Once Daniel collects himself, tugging his pants back up around his waist (neglecting the cup, Rorschach notes), he pivots on his heels to look at Rorschach. The goggles obscure his eyes, but Rorschach knows from the quirk of his mouth that Daniel's looking him over and judging what would be the best move.
"Don't," Rorschach says, before Daniel can make him change his mind.
Daniel frowns. "I...are you sure? I mean..."
"Don't." Rorschach removes temptation by taking several more steps away. "Don't even move."
"Hang on, don't leave, okay? I won't." Hands up, surrender. Making himself as docile as possible. "Let's just head back to Archie and figure out where to go next, okay? Uh--and I mean that literally, not figuratively. We don't have to talk."
Rorschach swallows. The aftermath makes him feel weak, and he just wants to go home and be alone, but Daniel wants this. Wants him. He nods, because he's not sure that he can trust his voice.
Daniel smiles. "Okay." He heaves to his feet and brushes himself off, a little self-conscious. "Come on."
Several minutes later and a block north, Rorschach glances at Daniel. "This had better be the right way, Nite Owl." Daniel just laughs and laughs-and double-checks, for his sake.
NC-17
Pre-Roche. Rorschach fingers Dan in an alleyway.
Prompt is Alley for mission_insane, originally posted on the kinkmeme.
They're both panting from running ten blocks, and that was excessive for an escape but Nite Owl kept running ahead even though the first few were enough to throw off the gang. Rorschach assumed that Archimedes was in wait nearby, but no, Nite Owl dropped into an empty alleyway, no more refined an escape waiting for them than more running if someone happens to catch up to them. Ordinarily Rorschach enjoys the leverage Nite Owl's carefulness provides during battle, but this is excessive. A pointless use of energy. Humiliating, too, if he's being honest, because retreat when one is outnumbered is tactically sound but going further than necessary is just cowardice dressed up as precaution.
Rorschach may also have scraped himself on the side of a building on the third-to-last block.
"Well, shit," Nite Owl pants. His face is darker than usual, red with exertion. He pushes back his cowl from his face and Rorschach tenses. Daniel's dark hair sticks to his cheeks. "Are you okay?"
I would be if you hadn't-- "Yes. You?"
He nods, then shakes his head and laughs. "Running!" Daniel gestures to his face, and he's still too breathless to really articulate, but Rorschach understands. It's supposed to be a joke. Rorschach doesn't find it very funny. He's less winded than Daniel, and able now to study Daniel's exhaustion, the way he uses the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat left from wearing his cowl. The shape of his tongue as it darts against his lips. It's always dangerous when Daniel unmasks in public, and Rorschach's admonitions never seem to make it through his thick, cowardly skull. (No, he almost chides himself, he's not the coward here.)
Daniel sighs out a long breath and straightens off the wall. "At least we lost them, right?"
"That's optimistic of you, Nite Owl." Daniel peers at him. Rorschach doesn't like that he's still wearing the goggles. "I was under the impression that at some point in your mad dash you were actually running towards something."
Rather than look abashed, Daniel grins. He flips the cowl back into place, erases the softness from his face. The grin is left, a white knife. Rorschach acknowledges that he may still be overheated from the exertion. "Yeah, I kind of ran the wrong way."
"Sloppy," Rorschach says, curt because he wants to laugh. "Very sloppy."
Daniel starts towards him, clearly under the impression that he has the upper hand (Rorschach must have been watching too closely, something he vowed to stop months ago and never quite did). The urge to punch him rises, and Rorschach closes his hand into a fist, lets Daniel watch him close his hand into a fist, lets the muscles in his back and legs tense with the fist. Daniel does not stop, and Rorschach walks into him, pushes him back with his open hand, and it's worth it to see the grin disappear. Nite Owl knocks over a garbage can in his attempt to right himself. The sound rings. A cat bolts out from under his feet, and he's looking after the cat, mouth open, and Rorschach shoves him until he's flat against a wall, and Nite Owl shuts his mouth by biting his lip, and Rorschach still wants to punch him so instead he reaches between Nite Owl's legs and shoves his fingers up behind his balls.
Nite Owl jerks onto his heels. "Wow-Rorschach-?"
Rorschach braces his forearm against Nite Owl's chest, close to his clavicle, not quite a threat: Stay still. He shifts closer and fixes the angle of his hand, then rubs, deliberate and slow, up and back, the heat of Nite Owl's balls radiating against his wrist. Nite Owl cracks his head against the alleyway wall and squirms on his heels. "Ran the wrong way," Rorschach echoes, incredulous. "Pathetic."
Nite Owl moans through his teeth, grabbing at the wall. It's difficult to judge how erect he is with his cup in the way, but Rorschach imagines he can't be very comfortable like this. Good. He could've been comfortable if he'd not run like a maniac through half New York. Slowly, taking his time, Rorschach works his hand further back; his wrist and forearm grind against Nite Owl's crotch as he grinds towards his ass.
Nite Owl grabs Rorschach's shoulder, his neck.
He pushes right against Nite Owl's ass, rubbing quick circles there, up and in, letting the spandex work with him rather than against. Nite Owl's mouth is open, his body taut; his hand clenches against Rorschach's neck, and they stay that way, suspended, Nite Owl whimpering under his breath. The smell of his sweat fills Rorschach's nose, and he leans in, licks at his neck where Daniel can't feel it, thankful for the cowl.
"Fuck-God, Ror..." Daniel jerks against him, face screwed up in concentration. Rorschach's wrist is starting to ache so he slows down, letting Nite Owl's lust amplify each slow, circular stroke against his entrance. Rorschach can imagine what it must feel like, with that painful boundary of spandex and leather between Daniel and Rorschach's fingers. Revels in Daniel's desperation, because it is his victory, his payback.
"You'll have to take off the belt," Rorschach mutters against the cowl. "I haven't. Watched you. Do it. Wouldn't want to cut myself."
Daniel snaps his hand away from Rorschach and fumbles with his belt, breathing through his nose. When the belt takes longer than a few seconds, he curses to himself, makes an unhappy noise when Rorschach pulls his hand away and stands back. "Hang on, it's just..." The belt clicks open and clatters away, and Daniel shoves his pants around his thighs. Rorschach wants to taste the bliss on Daniel's face when his cup falls away, freeing his red erection. They watch each other for a second then, just observing, taking in the moment.
Rorschach refuses to let it sink in and spoil itself. "Turn around." When Daniel hesitates, he snaps, "Turn around now," and is rewarded with a needy jerk of Daniel's hips. He hopes this won't take long. (He would be willing to spend the rest of the night like this.) Daniel obeys, facing the wall and leaning his ass towards Rorschach, obliging, hopeful. His face tilts down, staring at the ground, and Rorschach's not sure why, but he's relieved that he won't have to see any part of Daniel's face.
He steps close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating from Daniel and slips his hand between his buttocks, touches the sensitive flesh of his entrance. Daniel jumps and bites back a low sound, covers his mouth with his hand. With a low warning grunt, Rorschach starts to grind two fingers against Daniel, picking up the same motions as before, the tips of his gloved fingers sliding up inside of Daniel at random. The muscle resists when Rorschach starts to work his fingers deeper inside of him, but he's not daunted, soothing each stroke inward with a slow stroke around the sensitive flesh until Daniel's more accustomed. The moment Rorschach realizes he's fitting his fingers up to two knuckles inside of Daniel, he starts to fuck him with them without pausing, taking him roughly, his own prick throbbing between his legs.
Daniel presses his hips back against him, rutting haphazardly against his fingers, helping him deeper, and then he's up to his last knuckle, hooking his fingers inside of Daniel and grinding, looking for his reaction--and then, with a particularly rough shove, Daniel gasps There! and starts to bite at his glove, trying to hold back his desperate noises.
Rorschach leans a hand against Daniel's hip and pauses, his fingers deep inside of him, the muscles gripping, keeping him there. Part of him wants to make Daniel beg for it, and when he realizes that's what he's waiting for, he starts to fuck him in earnest, making Daniel rock with each of the thrusts, making him feel Rorschach, making him suffer open-mouthed and stupid with lust. Testing, Rorschach reaches his free hand around Daniel's stomach and brushes the swollen head, earning a high-pitched noise of surprise. His glove comes away slick, and he drags that slickness down the underside of Daniel's cock, just once. Just to let him feel it.
Daniel must be close, because the soft noises he was managing to repress are becoming garbled words against his glove, "Rorschach" and "please" and "Jesus" and Rorschach grinds the tips of his fingers at just the right spot, torturing him as long as he can, for as long as Daniel's body will let him.
When Daniel comes, it's quietly, arching and shuddering, his mouth open, head thrown back, but he keeps going until Rorschach is dizzy, wondering how Daniel is still on his feet, how he can stand it, but then Daniel is on his knees, done, loose and flushed. He breathes out Rorschach's name like he is the most amazing thing in the world, and Rorschach shudders violently, turns his head away. Rorschach is suddenly aware of how aroused he is, and of how obvious it is, his erection jutting against his pinstripe pants, noticeable even through the coat. He steps away from Daniel.
Once Daniel collects himself, tugging his pants back up around his waist (neglecting the cup, Rorschach notes), he pivots on his heels to look at Rorschach. The goggles obscure his eyes, but Rorschach knows from the quirk of his mouth that Daniel's looking him over and judging what would be the best move.
"Don't," Rorschach says, before Daniel can make him change his mind.
Daniel frowns. "I...are you sure? I mean..."
"Don't." Rorschach removes temptation by taking several more steps away. "Don't even move."
"Hang on, don't leave, okay? I won't." Hands up, surrender. Making himself as docile as possible. "Let's just head back to Archie and figure out where to go next, okay? Uh--and I mean that literally, not figuratively. We don't have to talk."
Rorschach swallows. The aftermath makes him feel weak, and he just wants to go home and be alone, but Daniel wants this. Wants him. He nods, because he's not sure that he can trust his voice.
Daniel smiles. "Okay." He heaves to his feet and brushes himself off, a little self-conscious. "Come on."
Several minutes later and a block north, Rorschach glances at Daniel. "This had better be the right way, Nite Owl." Daniel just laughs and laughs-and double-checks, for his sake.