[FIC] Watchmen - Dan/Rorschach - PG13 - "Connecting"
Title: "Connecting"
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Nite Owl II/ Rorschach
Word Count: 941
Warnings: Drool is exchanged.
Summary: Dan gets pinned to a door.
Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen. I never will. I just love and adore the characters of Watchmen.
Notes: Ennk.
i. Confused
ii. Frustrated
iii. Worried
iv. Staring
The Owl Nest was warm when they arrived.
It was warm, dimly lit, and the darkness that clung to the corners and the crevices seemed to give Rorschach a bit of confidence. He rolled his mask up over his nose, taking off his hat and coat and piling them on one of Daniel's work benches. Daniel stayed in his armor, though it was almost unbearably hot; he only wore boxers and an undershirt underneath it, and he didn't want to start stripping down, didn't want to give Rorschach the wrong idea.
But it was really hot, hot enough that he was beginning to sweat, and he did still need to use the bathroom. He cleared his throat, as if to get Rorschach's attention. It was a completely unnecessary action, the vigilante's eyes had been glued to him since they parted on the ship.
“I'm just going to run upstairs and change,” he said, feeling awkward, “And use the bathroom.”
He looked around, “Make yourself at home... Umm, come up if you want.”
The only response he received was a vaguely disinterested Hurm.
With his cheeks slowly going from their usual pallor to a darker flush of red, he turned and jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time in an effort to get done as soon as possible. The owl suit was peeled off quickly, left in a heap at the end of his bed, and civilian clothing was donned. Carefully chosen civilian clothing. His favorite jeans were pulled on, well worn and comfortable, followed by a shirt that featured a drawing of a light brown barn owl. He was quick in the bathroom, barely remembering to wash his hands as he criticized his appearance in the mirror. Sweat had made his hair curl, and it stuck to his forehead in a way he didn't appreciate.
“Shitty hair,” he grumbled, running his fingers through it to get it away from his face.
He glared at his reflection for a few minutes longer before tearing himself away from it and passing back into the kitchen, intent on returning to Rorschach in the Nest. Only Rorschach wasn't in the nest, and Daniel didn't notice him in the kitchen until they were only a few inches apart. With a surprised, and somewhat frightened, gasp, Daniel stumbled backwards, head and back hitting the door frame with a dull thunk. He winced at the pain it cause, reaching up to rub at his head where it had connected with hard wood.
Rorschach crowded him, suddenly, and he felt the gentle pressure of gloved fingers on the growing goose egg.
“Hurt?” the man asked, their faces inches away.
Daniel was glad he hadn't turned any of the lights on, hoping the semi-darkness hid his embarrassed blush. “No, no, I'm fine. Just startled me.”
The man's mask was still rolled up, and he saw his lips fall into a slight frown. “Sure?”
Daniel smiled, “Positive. I'm not going to be undone by a bonk on the head.”
Rorschach didn't say anything else, seemed to accept that Daniel was alright, but he didn't move back either. They stayed pressed in close, breath mingling between them, body heat intensifying. Daniel's toes curled against the linoleum flooring, his eyes slowly inching down to the other mans lips, in time to see a pink tongue dart out and wet them. His eyes slipped closed, his own lips parting as a pang of arousal shot through him. Rorschach's hands slipped down from the crown of his head, trailing very slowly along his jaw, his breath hitched, and he thought that he felt the trailing touch hitch with it.
“Rorschach?” he questioned, forcing his eyes open.
“Daniel.”
His name was said evenly, with zero inflection, but the voice made him shudder, made him close his eyes again so that he was taken off guard when lips pressed on his. He made a desperate noise against Rorschach's lips, pressing back. One of his hands found its way down to the man's hip, the other slid along the side of his face, tracing the edge of the half removed mask. Rorschach made an odd, needy noise in the back of his throat. It sounded guttural, base, like an animal, and made goosebumps break out over Daniel's skin.
Then there was a tongue.
It ran the length of his lips, which parted instantly, his own tongue inviting it into his mouth. He was moaning loud and pathetic sounds of want as he was pressed harder against the door frame, pinned to it by the shorter man.
He struggled to breathe through his nose; the kissing felt too good to stop for air. But Rorschach was stopping, was breaking their lip lock. Both struggled to breathe, mouths still slightly parted, a thread of saliva hanging in the half inch of air between them, connecting them.
Daniel swallowed, hard, his tongue darting out to run along his lips, tasting the other man on them. Rorschach mirrored his actions, but it looked different, it looked hungry.
“Should go,” the man rasped, voice even deeper and rougher than usual.
Daniel felt disappointment flood him, “Stay.”
“Can't,” Rorschach insisted.
“Can,” Daniel pressed, leaning in and nipping at his lower lip, making him growl and press hard against him again. “Stay with me.”
“No.”
Hands slowly fell away from him, and Daniel found that he had trouble supporting himself away from the door frame, his knees weak. He watched with obvious disappointment as Rorschach let himself out the front door, gently clicking it closed behind him.
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Nite Owl II/ Rorschach
Word Count: 941
Warnings: Drool is exchanged.
Summary: Dan gets pinned to a door.
Disclaimer: I do not own Watchmen. I never will. I just love and adore the characters of Watchmen.
Notes: Ennk.
i. Confused
ii. Frustrated
iii. Worried
iv. Staring
The Owl Nest was warm when they arrived.
It was warm, dimly lit, and the darkness that clung to the corners and the crevices seemed to give Rorschach a bit of confidence. He rolled his mask up over his nose, taking off his hat and coat and piling them on one of Daniel's work benches. Daniel stayed in his armor, though it was almost unbearably hot; he only wore boxers and an undershirt underneath it, and he didn't want to start stripping down, didn't want to give Rorschach the wrong idea.
But it was really hot, hot enough that he was beginning to sweat, and he did still need to use the bathroom. He cleared his throat, as if to get Rorschach's attention. It was a completely unnecessary action, the vigilante's eyes had been glued to him since they parted on the ship.
“I'm just going to run upstairs and change,” he said, feeling awkward, “And use the bathroom.”
He looked around, “Make yourself at home... Umm, come up if you want.”
The only response he received was a vaguely disinterested Hurm.
With his cheeks slowly going from their usual pallor to a darker flush of red, he turned and jogged up the stairs, taking them two at a time in an effort to get done as soon as possible. The owl suit was peeled off quickly, left in a heap at the end of his bed, and civilian clothing was donned. Carefully chosen civilian clothing. His favorite jeans were pulled on, well worn and comfortable, followed by a shirt that featured a drawing of a light brown barn owl. He was quick in the bathroom, barely remembering to wash his hands as he criticized his appearance in the mirror. Sweat had made his hair curl, and it stuck to his forehead in a way he didn't appreciate.
“Shitty hair,” he grumbled, running his fingers through it to get it away from his face.
He glared at his reflection for a few minutes longer before tearing himself away from it and passing back into the kitchen, intent on returning to Rorschach in the Nest. Only Rorschach wasn't in the nest, and Daniel didn't notice him in the kitchen until they were only a few inches apart. With a surprised, and somewhat frightened, gasp, Daniel stumbled backwards, head and back hitting the door frame with a dull thunk. He winced at the pain it cause, reaching up to rub at his head where it had connected with hard wood.
Rorschach crowded him, suddenly, and he felt the gentle pressure of gloved fingers on the growing goose egg.
“Hurt?” the man asked, their faces inches away.
Daniel was glad he hadn't turned any of the lights on, hoping the semi-darkness hid his embarrassed blush. “No, no, I'm fine. Just startled me.”
The man's mask was still rolled up, and he saw his lips fall into a slight frown. “Sure?”
Daniel smiled, “Positive. I'm not going to be undone by a bonk on the head.”
Rorschach didn't say anything else, seemed to accept that Daniel was alright, but he didn't move back either. They stayed pressed in close, breath mingling between them, body heat intensifying. Daniel's toes curled against the linoleum flooring, his eyes slowly inching down to the other mans lips, in time to see a pink tongue dart out and wet them. His eyes slipped closed, his own lips parting as a pang of arousal shot through him. Rorschach's hands slipped down from the crown of his head, trailing very slowly along his jaw, his breath hitched, and he thought that he felt the trailing touch hitch with it.
“Rorschach?” he questioned, forcing his eyes open.
“Daniel.”
His name was said evenly, with zero inflection, but the voice made him shudder, made him close his eyes again so that he was taken off guard when lips pressed on his. He made a desperate noise against Rorschach's lips, pressing back. One of his hands found its way down to the man's hip, the other slid along the side of his face, tracing the edge of the half removed mask. Rorschach made an odd, needy noise in the back of his throat. It sounded guttural, base, like an animal, and made goosebumps break out over Daniel's skin.
Then there was a tongue.
It ran the length of his lips, which parted instantly, his own tongue inviting it into his mouth. He was moaning loud and pathetic sounds of want as he was pressed harder against the door frame, pinned to it by the shorter man.
He struggled to breathe through his nose; the kissing felt too good to stop for air. But Rorschach was stopping, was breaking their lip lock. Both struggled to breathe, mouths still slightly parted, a thread of saliva hanging in the half inch of air between them, connecting them.
Daniel swallowed, hard, his tongue darting out to run along his lips, tasting the other man on them. Rorschach mirrored his actions, but it looked different, it looked hungry.
“Should go,” the man rasped, voice even deeper and rougher than usual.
Daniel felt disappointment flood him, “Stay.”
“Can't,” Rorschach insisted.
“Can,” Daniel pressed, leaning in and nipping at his lower lip, making him growl and press hard against him again. “Stay with me.”
“No.”
Hands slowly fell away from him, and Daniel found that he had trouble supporting himself away from the door frame, his knees weak. He watched with obvious disappointment as Rorschach let himself out the front door, gently clicking it closed behind him.