Watchmen Kink Meme 3. Weeeeeeee.
Rules of the meme:
1. Anonymously post a pairing and prompt you would like to see written. Since this is a kink meme, there is supposted to be a kink involved, but normal well-written prompts should work just as well.
2. Anonymous will respond to your post and write it for you! Art and such is also acceptable/awesome. Multiple people may respond to ( Read more... )
Yeah, I don't know why I thought I could write it. This fic has taken me way too long and I'm not happy with it, but it's done. Sorry if the cheese is congealed and the crust a little soggy, but it's free!
Rorschach knew his partner harbored corrupt feelings toward him.
He should have seen it sooner. Should have trimmed off the decay before it spread to the root. Daniel had always been overtly friendly, and Walter had inevitably been won over by that kindness. He shouldn’t have been so weak.
But he’d welcomed it, even as he was ashamed at enjoying the physical contact. And the grappling gun. Rorschach berated himself harshly for that. A mistake to accept that gift. Nothing comes without its price.
Dan had gotten the mask pulled up. He’d given him a look, Rorschach couldn’t identify it, then he seemed determined. There was no time to react. He hadn’t known why Nite Owl’s hands were trembling. Why his injuries seemed to worry his partner more than they did him. Dan hadn’t stopped asking him if he was all right. Criminals littered the ground, Rorschach approved, his partner was finally starting to see it his way. He hadn’t questioned why Nite Owl’s hands were trembling. Concern. His partner was worried about him. His injuries. Gave in only to appease his partner. Never to erase that expression, the one that made him sick. Never to please Daniel. A foreign mouth violated against his own.
Rorschach punched him across the jaw.
Told him he was willing to ignore the slip in his partner’s behavior, trusting it wouldn’t happen again. Another mistake. Dan was too stubborn to let it go.
Daniel shouldn’t have done it. Should have been a better partner. No. Blame wasn’t on Dan. Soft, liberal sensibilities, always felt things too much. Those were his failings, this one was Walter’s. Must have encouraged him somehow. Or exposed his own immoral desires, not above Dan to act out of pity. Had to slough off this weakness like he had others. The last remnant of his past. Walter was too pathetic to resist another advance.
He was getting too close.
***
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He remembered the men coming in and out of his mother’s room, the ones that called him a pretty little thing, as pretty as their own little girl at home, and the few that looked at him with predator smiles. He saw his mother through clear eyes and he knew that that would be his future, that he’d end up a fat whore like his mother. Even after he’d almost scratched that boy’s eyes out and that first institute, even then he knew that wasn’t an escape.
And then it’d happened.
At thirteen his voice cracked and a year later it became deeper. His chest stayed flat but he wasn’t stupid. While other girls were waiting to bleed, he didn’t. Even in his giddiness, his body unfolding into a proper form, it was surprisingly easy to chop his hair off into short, uneven curls, to salvage an old pair of men’s pants and a shirt, roll up the cuffs. All too easy to get picked off the street again and send to the Charlton Home. When he, along with the other children at Charlton Home, had their one physical examination, also easy to stand in front of the doctor’s uncertain, analyzing stare and it couldn’t be denied. He was a man. He wasn’t a perfect man. But what did that matter when he was given a miracle. His first true identity. His second would always be his new face.
After the change, Walter still carried something of his mother within him. It was his blood, and his face. Rorschach was born from something stronger. He had no faults. He was not flesh and blood.
Not flesh.
The spirit was willing.
***
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“Jesus, Rorschach.” Fingers probing him intimately. “Jesus, I never knew.”
He whimpered and tried to bury his face further into the sheets, biting his wrist to muffle the sound. He didn’t want to be called that. Not here. Not like this. His new face meant nothing. Rorschach wasn’t here.
Walter spread his legs further, shamefully pushing back for more. He didn’t know what he wanted to be called.
***
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His inkblot face couldn’t hide this. But he was glad to still be wearing it. It was all that was keeping him standing.
He couldn’t face Daniel’s pity.
“What--?”
“Not like you, Daniel. Wasn’t born a man.” The truth was always easier, but it had never hurt so much. First blood drawn was his own.
Daniel still stared at him from the doorway. If he wanted him before, he wouldn’t want him now. Why wouldn’t he leave. Take his pity and his staring eyes and leave. He wasn’t some specimen to be dissected and studied, his body laid out, his pride smothered and pinned down onto paper. The unknown look was back in Daniel’s eyes. His lips drew back, baring teeth, the uncovered part of his face. Rorschach moved to pull his true face down.
Suddenly, Daniel stepped forward, and Rorschach drew back, hitting the wall. Nowhere to go. A tiled and porcelained cage. Daniel’s hand around his wrist, forcing his hand away from his face.
“I don’t care.”
Daniel’s mouth was warm.
***
Walter had always been too weak.
What was giving up his face when he had already sold his body so cheaply.
Unmasked and naked, he lay shivering in his own cooling sweat. Daniel’s arm around him, Daniel’s chest against his back. Daniel’s other hand playing around his genitals, like a child fascinated with some strange, new creature he’d dug out of the mud. Lips against his neck, his shoulder, Walter shivered for less than pure reason.
“Stop it,” he whispered, laying a hand across Dan’s wrist.
A low, sated chuckle against his back. “Sorry.” Dan turned him over to face him. “I just can’t get over it. I had no idea.”
He gave Walter a slow kiss, dipping his tongue between his lip, dragging across his teeth. Walter let him.
Dan broke the kiss and frowned. “Hey,” he said softly, “are you okay?”
Walter tried to avoid Dan’s searching gaze, but it was like trying to hide from the sun. He shook his head.
“Oh…oh! Did you--I mean--did you even want this?”
“No!” Walter jerked his head up sharply. He immediately realized he’d said the wrong thing. Daniel looked as though he’d been punched in the jaw, then guilt. Walter shook his head, pressing his body flush with Daniel’s, larger than his, warmer, stronger. He clung to him so fiercely his own tendons might snap. Dan ran one of his generous hands in a comforting gesture along the ridges of his partner’s back.
“What is it then?”
He pressed a kiss to the top of uneven red hair, and clung to his partner just as desperately.
“What is it?”
***
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Not when Nite Owl would shake his hand after patrol and go up to his home to become Dan Dreiburg. Or when a few minutes later he was followed by a quiet red head who was relearning how to walk in his own skin.
That first night after, a full fourteen hours until patrol together, until he had purpose, and even more time until they were alone again together. Daniel offering coffee to this stranger and fidgeting like a little boy with a secret. Rorschach tucked away in a trench coat pocket for what night they had left.
“Y’know, I did some research about you--about you’re condition.”
Daniel’s hand wavered in front of his face as if forgetting whether he was wearing his goggles or his glasses, before pushing his glasses up nervously. Walter only knew what that hesitation meant because Rorschach did too.
“The--ah, genitals at birth--you see everyone starts out the same--and hormones control the changes--” He stopped and sat at the kitchen table next to Walter. The coffee lay untouched. Daniel covered the chapped, freckled hand and gazed into his face earnestly.
“Doctor’s can make a mistake. In your condition, they can mistake a baby boy for a girl.” He squeezed the unresponsive hand. “You understand what I’m saying. You’ve always been--”
“Hrmmm.” Thoughtfully, and as if he’s made whole again.
He squeezed the hand covering his. It has its own calluses, its own stains. Mostly motor oil. It’s a good hand. A clever hand. His partners, and it’s worked more miracles than its owner realizes.
He isn’t entirely Walter. Not right now. Not entirely Rorschach either. He’s been freed of one burden from the past. A shed skin. Something altered left to crawl away and grow into it’s new skin. For this, Walter needed Daniel. For this, Rorschach had to compromise.
Walter traced the line of muscle from Daniel’s hand up to his shoulder, the trench of his collar bone, his strong jaw line, his mouth. It all connected together impossibly.
Daniel’s flesh was warm.
"I'm mufflers" ???? Whatever floats your boat, reCaptcha.
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I'm not sure whether to call this transgender, which is the self-identified gender is not the assigned gender, (i.e. identifying as male when the physiological gender assigned at birth is female), or intersex, which is more like having a bit of both. It's like an a mix or something. I love it.
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I had done some research and found out that some males born with ambiguous genitalia were misidentified as girls until they developed secondary male sex characteristics. In some worse cases, the doctors knew they were male but thought that since their genitalia was so deformed, that it was better to just do gender-reassignment surgery and make them into girls, and only later these "women" found out that they were men and had another surgery to change them back.
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I'm not sure whether to call this transgender, which is the self-identified gender is not the assigned gender, (i.e. identifying as male when the physiological gender assigned at birth is female), or intersex, which is more like having a bit of both. It's like an a mix or something. I love it.
Catpcha says Sette Times/Barton
*blinks* er... yeah
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