Beauty and the Beast
Title: Beauty and the Beast
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairing: Adrian Veidt/Rorschach
Summary: I tried to think of the most unlikely non-canon paring from this fandom, and this was it! This story is about what happens when polar opposites try to go on a date. The characters and their storyline are not mine, obviously, although what fun I have had with them!
Rating: M
Adrian Veidt thought to himself that they must be the only couple ever to actually watch a drive-in movie.Much to his frustration, his wiry, red-haired companion did not so much as touch him during the show. Walter merely sat and started fixedly at the screen, chewing his popcorn in a bovine way. If he had rented out the drive-in, as he had originally considered, Adrian might have pressed the issue; but renting would only have attracted attention. This way, he-Adrian--could be anonymous. Still, he had at least expected a little flirtation-perhaps a hand on his upper thigh, some reason to be encouraged. As he sat, watching Walter more than the movie, Adrian himself did nothing, knowing that even an overture invisible to the nearby patrons might be rewarded with a broken nose.
It was a science-fiction double feature. As the first black-and-white film drew to an end, with pie pans spinning off into a construction-paper void, Adrian stretched and unhooked the speaker from the door.
“You know what?” he said. “I'm still hungry.”
“But you've had popcorn,” Walter said, as he finished chewing. He had cut Adrian no slack at all earlier, grabbing an extra tub and gruffly dumping half of the popcorn into it.
“I know, but now I need some protein to even out the carbs,” Adrian said, trying to sound disapproving. “I'm getting one of those hot dogs. Did you want anything?”
“Yeah, I'll take one of those,” Walter said coolly.
Adrian himself did not eat much-breakfast was usually the biggest and sometimes the only meal of the day. He could make himself eat for social occasions, however-and Walter had exclaimed over the hot dogs when they had picked this place.
Adrian knew that Walter did not think of this excursion in the same way that he did. He would never let himself think that way, even if they both knew how things would end-and how they had ended before. This night had been designed for Walter, however: things that he enjoyed, or had at one time. Adrian recalled how sad it had made him the week before to hear Walter tell the story of the little girl, and explain why he demanded to be called Rorschach, even when out of his mask.
Be that as it may, my friend, he had said, one must feel alive sometimes. And so a plan had been hatched.
To Adrian's surprise, Walter got out of the car with him, following at a few paces, head down like a hesitant puppy. He thrust his hands in his jacket and stood back as Adrian waited in line. When Adrian made his order, he spoke loudly--his manner jovial, his cadence and intonation, not his own. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that his ploy had worked: his friend's lips were pursed, on the verge of cracking up.
“That was a good Dan Dreiberg impression,” Walter said as Adrian walked back to him.
“Glad you liked it,” Adrian replied, handing Walter the hot dog and the drink he had gotten to go with it.
“Well, the glasses help.”
“This is true,” Adrian conceded as he slipped the frames back into his jacket pocket. Humor hadn't been his only purpose in the disguise, however. If the woman at the concession stand had been convinced, for a second, that she had seen the famous Adrian Veidt, she was now convinced that she had not.
The conversation lulled as they strode back to the car. Adrian spoke first, as Walter began eating his hot dog.
“What did the Zen Buddist say to the hot dog vendor?”
“ 'Make me one with everything.'”
“Right. 'That'll be $1.50' says the vendor. The Buddhist gives him two dollars, and gets nothing back. 'Where's my change?' he asks. What does the hot dog vendor say?”
“Dunno, haven't heard that part.”
“ 'All change must come from within'.”
Walter actually cracked a fractured smile, as he dusted off his hands tossed the hot dog wrapper in a nearby trash can. “You've been spending too much time with The Comedian.”
“That would hardly seem difficult,” Adrian replied.
Walter snorted. He looked up at the screen as they got back to the car, at the second movie which was beginning. Adrian was reluctantly reached for the window speakers, but Walter held out his hand. “You know what? Let's go. I've seen this one.”
Thank the Gods, Adrian thought, but merely said, “Very well.”
* * * * *
When they got back to Adrian's penthouse hotel room, Rorschach followed him inside without any discussion. The lights were low, and classical music was playing softly in the background. They were on Adrian's turf, and Adrian's tastes would rule now. It wasn't quid pro quo-it was just the natural order of things.
“Would you like something to drink?” Adrian asked. “There's champagne, wine, whiskey, scotch...”
“Just wanter, thanks,” Rorschach replied.
The other man took a seat on the couch as Adrian poured-first the water, then a flute of champagne for himself. The champagne earned a dubious look from Rorschach as Adrian came back over with the drinks.
“Well, that was nice,” Adrian said. “I'd never been to a drive-in before.”
“Mm-hmm. Told you.”
Adrian considered continuing the small talk-commenting on the movie and so forth-but the first swig of champagne killed the chatter on his lips. No need to be fake, he told himself; all pretense would be over soon enough.
Sure enough, Rorschach sat his water glass down on the coffee table after just a few drinks, regarding it as if it were going to tell him something. He turned to Adrian and kissed him-a hard, grinding, aggressive kiss.
The experience was at least somewhat familiar to Adrian by now, but it still caught him off guard. His senses filled with his companions masculine scent-distinctive but pleasant, and carrying the barest hint of familiar cologne. Whiskers scraped the skin of his face. As the older man moved to straddle him, Adrian submissively stretched his legs out on the couch.
Rorschach pinned Adrian's right shoulder down with one hand, and fondled the collar of his silk polo shirt with the other.
“Such fancy clothes,” he said, “such fancy fuckin' clothes.” He leaned down close to Adrian's ear. “You're the type of person who was made for these clothes. I'd like to tear them off of you, but I don't guess you'd appreciate that.”
Adrian realized at this point that he was hard. He had forgotten what an effect this man's voice could have on him.
He managed to sit up and get just enough space to pull his shirt off over his head, His gaze connected with Rorschach's an instant afterwards. Rorschach had undone Adrian's belt in the meantime, and now whipped it off. This stung, but Adrian stifled his wince.
Rorschach had just gotten down Adrian's zipper-on jeans that were hardly ever worn-when the younger man leaped and turned the table on him, pinning at the other end of the couch, both wrists under Adrian's knees. Again, green eye locked with blue ones as Adrian slowly loosened the other man's skinny tie, and unbuttoned his checked shirt. Rorschach cooperated long enough to shrug the shirt off his shoulders when that was done.
Once again, Adrian had to pause to marvel at his compatriot's body. The skin was tan and weathered, and as freckled as you would expect with a redhead. His frame had a wiry strength, with hard, dense chest and shoulder muscles, but obvious clavicle and ribs. There were numerous small scars, and even a few burns, ranging from old and brown to fresh and pink.
“You really are beautiful,” Adrian murmured
Rorschach frowned. “You don't have to say that. It makes you sound like a faggot.”
Adrian shrugged. “I suppose I am. I mean it, anyway.”
Next thing he knew, Adrian was on the tile floor next to the couch, the wind knocked out of him. It didn't escape his notice that while there was a hand at his throat, another had gone behind his head to keep him from cracking it open.
“Oh, yeah? Well that's not me.” Rorschach countered gruffly. “I'm no degenerate like Silhouette. This? This is just us. It's just a thing.”
“I don't give a fuck what you call it,” Adrian said, “as long as you keep doing it!"
Here, Adrian felt Rorschach's hand loosen from his throat, and slowly trail trail two fingers down the middle of his torso. It was all Adrian could do not to arch his back in response. The touch stopped, however, just short of his navel.
“So fucking perfect,” Rorschach said, almost as if to himself. “Half the times I think that's why I do this-just to see those feathers ruffled for once. How did you do it?” he asked. “How'd you do what you did for so long without getting hurt?”
“I told you,” Adrian replied, through a brain swimming with distraction, “I can have armor made for you, too. As good as anyone has. Relying on used Kevlar--”
Rorschach shook his head. “I do just fine without your help, thanks.”
“Is that so?” Adrian asked, rubbing one hand up Rorschach's inner thigh. “I'm guessing that you want my help plenty right now. Let's find out.”
But Rorschach grabbed his hand and pinned it to the floor, reaching to finish removing Adrian's pants with his other hand. His feet were between Adrian's knees this time, though, rather than straddling, so Adrian fought to regain the advantage. He wrapped his legs around the other man and pulled him forward with his free hand. This caused Rorschach to lose his balance and let up on Adrian's wrist. Then it was Adrian's turn to try and relieve the form now on top of him of its jeans.
Rorschach responded by biting Adrian on the shoulder-with teeth, but not with so much pressure as to actually do damage. It was a move meant more to distract than anything else, and judging from the cry that came from Adrian, it succeeded. Rorschach slipped free of the scissor-hold, his face on fire with triumph. His smile was all predatory curiosity.
Standing quickly, he grabbed Adrian by the wrists and dragged him a few feet onto the Persian rug just beyond the coffee table. Adrian was curious enough about his plan to allow this to happen.
“A little more comfortable for you,” Rorschach said, taking a few steps back.
“Why, thank you,” Adrian said sarcastically, doubting that he was the only one who preferred a softer surface.
Rorschach slipped off his jeans-which were almost falling down anyway-revealing plain gray flannel boxers underneath. His face was flushed from exertion and he, too, was clearly already excited.
“Now you,” he said, gesturing at Adrian with his nose. Adrian obediently slipped off his pants and threw them clear of the rug. Rorschach shifted his weight to one foot, crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his partner.. The overall effect made Adrian's feel like his heart stopped for a second.
“Now turn over.” Adrian complied, and soon felt the Rorschach's slight weight settle around him again, just above his knees. He bit him again, on the ball of the shoulder, this time without teeth. Then he shifted up the shoulder just a bit. By this time, Adrian had the idea, and raised up enough to bow his head, offering up sensitive spot at the base of his neck. He cried out when Rorschach obliged.
“There we go,” Adrian heard him say. “Heh. Never difficult to figure out what you like.”
He proceeded down Adrian's body, nipping at his ribs, at his side, at his spine as he arched in response. Adrian gradually pulled his knees underneath him and stretched his arms out before him. The other man tauntingly varied the sharpness and intensity of his bites based on Adrian's gasps, moans and other reactions.
Then came the sensation of one finger, massaging the outside of a very sensitive area through the satin of Adrian's black boxer shorts .
Adrian lay there and submitted to this, but just for a moment. Then he pulled away and turned, sitting up again. Rorschach was crouched across from him now. In one quick movement, Adrian swept the other man's feet out from under him, then pulled him onto his back on the rug.
“Don't dish it out,” he told him, “if you can't take it.”
“Hey,” Rorschach warned, as Adrian knelt at his feet, “don't forget the rules..!”
“I won't,” Adrian said. He slowly worked his way up his companion's lower body, biting first one leg and then the other with the same sort of gentle, mostly-toothless bites. He moved from the shins up to the inner thighs, reveling in the slight feeling of resistance as he moved the knees further apart, reveling further to feel it give away. With his hands, he applied pressure to strategic spots on the sides of the ankles. He paused in this, slowly stealing up to pull down the waistband of the shorts just slightly. He slowly licked one long, horizontal stretch just above the hairline-the most he imagined he could get away with. Eyes closed, Rorschach writhed slightly under this attention, and whispered Adrian's name.
It was Adrian's turn to light up with triumph, and his turn to lean close to the other man's ear. “Now that's what I like to hear,” he said, with a purr that would have made his pet lynx proud.
“That's enough”, Rorschach said gruffly, panting and raising one hand. “That's enough, that's enough.”
Adrian was not sure whether it was some hang-up or merely sensory overload that brought on that plea-most likely some combination of both. Either way, he sat back and waited, a few feet away, as the moment passed. His partner's breathing returned to normal and his arms and hands relaxed. Rorschach sat up, and appeared to be about to say something, but Adrian sprang to his feet and extended his hand. Somewhat to his surprise, Rorschach took it, and soon stood across from him.
If Adrian had been on the receiving end of the first kiss, he initiated this one, equally fierce and hungry. He carefully propelled them both a few feet backwards towards the nearest wall. When Rorschach attempted to reverse things, placing Adrian against the wall, he knocked them both into a nearby display pedestal. The vase on top fell and shattered..
“Well, now look what you've made me do, Rorschach said, as they both paused to stare at the new spray of powder on the floor.
“Don't worry about it,” Adrian said. “Nothing in here that's valuable is breakable.”
Again the eye contact, again that dangerous half-grin. “That's what you think!”
“Oh! Oh is that so? Adrian said, putting one first on his hip. “Do your worst.”
He didn't struggle as Rorschach bent one of his arms carefully but firmly behind his back. He found himself slammed into the opposite wall, which was caddy-cornered from where they stood, and had to throw out the other hand to keep from hitting it with center mass. When the other man abruptly yanked down Adrian's boxers, Adrian merely stepped out and kicked them clear. When Rorschach removed his own shorts, however, Adrian attempted to turn around, only to be pressed further against the wall. He stepped backwards with all of his weight, pushing Rorschach off balance, then jabbed backwards with an elbow that barely missed, but succeeded in getting his captor to let him go. With both hands now free, he grabbed Rorschach by the arms, just underneath the shoulders. He held him there for a moment, in front of him, and raked him with his gaze, head to foot.
“Well?” Rorschach finally asked defiantly. There were shadows in his eyes. “Well?”
Adrian's mouth twitched with a barely perceptible smirk. Wordlessly, he turned and put his hands out, bracing himself against the wall.
Just a second,” an uncharacteristically enthusiastic-sounding Rorschach. “Don't even. Turn. Around.” Adrian sighed, bowing his head, but obeyed.
He heard bare feet padding quickly across tile, but then lost the sound. When he heard nothing more after a few seconds, he risked a glance over his shoulder, only to be genuinely startled by Rorschach's sudden appearance on his other side. He had to admit, he was impressed. The other man had moved as quietly as Adrian himself could ever hope to.
Rorschach reached over and pushed Adrian's hands together, revealing that he now had his tie in his other hand. Adrian's already elevated heart rate quickened even more. He got the delicious feel of one bare thigh against his as Rorschach quickly bound his hands together. The ultimate knot was tied tight enough, even with the stretchy material, that Adrian flinched.
Adrian swore internally. Had he mentioned this to Rorschach at some point, and forgotten it? Or was it a lucky guess? Perhaps an actual precaution? Adrian felt an almost pathological need to control of most situations-it was just part of his personality. As the CEO of a multinational corporation and all-around do-gooder, he had more than his share of responsibility. He relished the opportunity to give up that control. He willingly but necessarily took the submissive role in most of his sexual interactions-after all, he was stronger and faster than anyone he knew. Right now, however, he had a sensation of helplessness that would have been intoxicating no matter who he had been with.
Now, Rorschach positioned himself behind Adrian, hands on his hips, and entered him slowly. Adrian chose this last moment to resist, tilting his hips forward to control how deep the other man could go. With a growl, Rorschach pulled him backwards and pushed in further. Adrian gaped in soundless shock, both at the penetration and and at the heat of his partner's skin. His hip-bones were predictably sharp and prominent, but it was as if he had some sort of internal furnace.
They fell into a motion now familiar to the both. They weren't far at all from the wall, but Adrian bent his elbows, and leaned forward as much as he could to make things easier. One hand slipped around to massage not his shaft, which was now almost painfully hard, but the tender flesh right underneath it. In just the time that they'd been coming together like this, that was something that they had learned worked for him, something that helped put him over the edge. Sure enough, he soon felt a quicksilver tension building deep within him. He subtly bit down on one of his bound hands, hoping that it would go unnoticed.
No such luck. Rorschach slowed his motion considerably, and raised one hand to pull Adrian's hands away. “You got somethin' to say, blondie?” he asked.
“Um, 'Oh, God, please don't stop'?” Adrian offered, sparing a chuckle at his own expense.
“Heh. I thought it might be something like that.”
They resumed their rhythm, and it wasn't long before that quicksilver-fire feeling shot through Adrian's form, overwhelming him altogether. His knees buckled slightly, but he remained standing. Moments later, he felt the other man come to his own shuddering climax, and then pull out. Only then did Adrian permit himself to sink to the floor.
Rorschach did likewise, and Adrian had an instant of mind-erasing surprise as he leaned against him, placing his brow against Adrian's shoulder as he caught his breath. As quickly as this happened, however, it was over, and Rorschach slumped into a sitting position across from him.
As soon as his own breath was back, Adrian slipped free of his necktie bond with ease, then tossed the tie onto the coffee table. A look of irritation cross Rorschach's face. Surely, Adrian thought, he must have known that he'd submitted to that willingly, and that most knots posed him no problem?
Adrian scrambled unsteadily to his feet. “Stay right there,” he said. “I'll be back in a second.” He clutched at his throat and then cleared it, surprised at the sound of his voice. He must have been screaming, toward the end. A lot. He didn't even remember. That was the way it usually went, though-himself, so vocal, and Rorschach so quiet. Adrian reflected that that it was the opposite of what most people would expect of them. Or was it?
Link to Part 2
Fandom: Watchmen
Pairing: Adrian Veidt/Rorschach
Summary: I tried to think of the most unlikely non-canon paring from this fandom, and this was it! This story is about what happens when polar opposites try to go on a date. The characters and their storyline are not mine, obviously, although what fun I have had with them!
Rating: M
Adrian Veidt thought to himself that they must be the only couple ever to actually watch a drive-in movie.Much to his frustration, his wiry, red-haired companion did not so much as touch him during the show. Walter merely sat and started fixedly at the screen, chewing his popcorn in a bovine way. If he had rented out the drive-in, as he had originally considered, Adrian might have pressed the issue; but renting would only have attracted attention. This way, he-Adrian--could be anonymous. Still, he had at least expected a little flirtation-perhaps a hand on his upper thigh, some reason to be encouraged. As he sat, watching Walter more than the movie, Adrian himself did nothing, knowing that even an overture invisible to the nearby patrons might be rewarded with a broken nose.
It was a science-fiction double feature. As the first black-and-white film drew to an end, with pie pans spinning off into a construction-paper void, Adrian stretched and unhooked the speaker from the door.
“You know what?” he said. “I'm still hungry.”
“But you've had popcorn,” Walter said, as he finished chewing. He had cut Adrian no slack at all earlier, grabbing an extra tub and gruffly dumping half of the popcorn into it.
“I know, but now I need some protein to even out the carbs,” Adrian said, trying to sound disapproving. “I'm getting one of those hot dogs. Did you want anything?”
“Yeah, I'll take one of those,” Walter said coolly.
Adrian himself did not eat much-breakfast was usually the biggest and sometimes the only meal of the day. He could make himself eat for social occasions, however-and Walter had exclaimed over the hot dogs when they had picked this place.
Adrian knew that Walter did not think of this excursion in the same way that he did. He would never let himself think that way, even if they both knew how things would end-and how they had ended before. This night had been designed for Walter, however: things that he enjoyed, or had at one time. Adrian recalled how sad it had made him the week before to hear Walter tell the story of the little girl, and explain why he demanded to be called Rorschach, even when out of his mask.
Be that as it may, my friend, he had said, one must feel alive sometimes. And so a plan had been hatched.
To Adrian's surprise, Walter got out of the car with him, following at a few paces, head down like a hesitant puppy. He thrust his hands in his jacket and stood back as Adrian waited in line. When Adrian made his order, he spoke loudly--his manner jovial, his cadence and intonation, not his own. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that his ploy had worked: his friend's lips were pursed, on the verge of cracking up.
“That was a good Dan Dreiberg impression,” Walter said as Adrian walked back to him.
“Glad you liked it,” Adrian replied, handing Walter the hot dog and the drink he had gotten to go with it.
“Well, the glasses help.”
“This is true,” Adrian conceded as he slipped the frames back into his jacket pocket. Humor hadn't been his only purpose in the disguise, however. If the woman at the concession stand had been convinced, for a second, that she had seen the famous Adrian Veidt, she was now convinced that she had not.
The conversation lulled as they strode back to the car. Adrian spoke first, as Walter began eating his hot dog.
“What did the Zen Buddist say to the hot dog vendor?”
“ 'Make me one with everything.'”
“Right. 'That'll be $1.50' says the vendor. The Buddhist gives him two dollars, and gets nothing back. 'Where's my change?' he asks. What does the hot dog vendor say?”
“Dunno, haven't heard that part.”
“ 'All change must come from within'.”
Walter actually cracked a fractured smile, as he dusted off his hands tossed the hot dog wrapper in a nearby trash can. “You've been spending too much time with The Comedian.”
“That would hardly seem difficult,” Adrian replied.
Walter snorted. He looked up at the screen as they got back to the car, at the second movie which was beginning. Adrian was reluctantly reached for the window speakers, but Walter held out his hand. “You know what? Let's go. I've seen this one.”
Thank the Gods, Adrian thought, but merely said, “Very well.”
* * * * *
When they got back to Adrian's penthouse hotel room, Rorschach followed him inside without any discussion. The lights were low, and classical music was playing softly in the background. They were on Adrian's turf, and Adrian's tastes would rule now. It wasn't quid pro quo-it was just the natural order of things.
“Would you like something to drink?” Adrian asked. “There's champagne, wine, whiskey, scotch...”
“Just wanter, thanks,” Rorschach replied.
The other man took a seat on the couch as Adrian poured-first the water, then a flute of champagne for himself. The champagne earned a dubious look from Rorschach as Adrian came back over with the drinks.
“Well, that was nice,” Adrian said. “I'd never been to a drive-in before.”
“Mm-hmm. Told you.”
Adrian considered continuing the small talk-commenting on the movie and so forth-but the first swig of champagne killed the chatter on his lips. No need to be fake, he told himself; all pretense would be over soon enough.
Sure enough, Rorschach sat his water glass down on the coffee table after just a few drinks, regarding it as if it were going to tell him something. He turned to Adrian and kissed him-a hard, grinding, aggressive kiss.
The experience was at least somewhat familiar to Adrian by now, but it still caught him off guard. His senses filled with his companions masculine scent-distinctive but pleasant, and carrying the barest hint of familiar cologne. Whiskers scraped the skin of his face. As the older man moved to straddle him, Adrian submissively stretched his legs out on the couch.
Rorschach pinned Adrian's right shoulder down with one hand, and fondled the collar of his silk polo shirt with the other.
“Such fancy clothes,” he said, “such fancy fuckin' clothes.” He leaned down close to Adrian's ear. “You're the type of person who was made for these clothes. I'd like to tear them off of you, but I don't guess you'd appreciate that.”
Adrian realized at this point that he was hard. He had forgotten what an effect this man's voice could have on him.
He managed to sit up and get just enough space to pull his shirt off over his head, His gaze connected with Rorschach's an instant afterwards. Rorschach had undone Adrian's belt in the meantime, and now whipped it off. This stung, but Adrian stifled his wince.
Rorschach had just gotten down Adrian's zipper-on jeans that were hardly ever worn-when the younger man leaped and turned the table on him, pinning at the other end of the couch, both wrists under Adrian's knees. Again, green eye locked with blue ones as Adrian slowly loosened the other man's skinny tie, and unbuttoned his checked shirt. Rorschach cooperated long enough to shrug the shirt off his shoulders when that was done.
Once again, Adrian had to pause to marvel at his compatriot's body. The skin was tan and weathered, and as freckled as you would expect with a redhead. His frame had a wiry strength, with hard, dense chest and shoulder muscles, but obvious clavicle and ribs. There were numerous small scars, and even a few burns, ranging from old and brown to fresh and pink.
“You really are beautiful,” Adrian murmured
Rorschach frowned. “You don't have to say that. It makes you sound like a faggot.”
Adrian shrugged. “I suppose I am. I mean it, anyway.”
Next thing he knew, Adrian was on the tile floor next to the couch, the wind knocked out of him. It didn't escape his notice that while there was a hand at his throat, another had gone behind his head to keep him from cracking it open.
“Oh, yeah? Well that's not me.” Rorschach countered gruffly. “I'm no degenerate like Silhouette. This? This is just us. It's just a thing.”
“I don't give a fuck what you call it,” Adrian said, “as long as you keep doing it!"
Here, Adrian felt Rorschach's hand loosen from his throat, and slowly trail trail two fingers down the middle of his torso. It was all Adrian could do not to arch his back in response. The touch stopped, however, just short of his navel.
“So fucking perfect,” Rorschach said, almost as if to himself. “Half the times I think that's why I do this-just to see those feathers ruffled for once. How did you do it?” he asked. “How'd you do what you did for so long without getting hurt?”
“I told you,” Adrian replied, through a brain swimming with distraction, “I can have armor made for you, too. As good as anyone has. Relying on used Kevlar--”
Rorschach shook his head. “I do just fine without your help, thanks.”
“Is that so?” Adrian asked, rubbing one hand up Rorschach's inner thigh. “I'm guessing that you want my help plenty right now. Let's find out.”
But Rorschach grabbed his hand and pinned it to the floor, reaching to finish removing Adrian's pants with his other hand. His feet were between Adrian's knees this time, though, rather than straddling, so Adrian fought to regain the advantage. He wrapped his legs around the other man and pulled him forward with his free hand. This caused Rorschach to lose his balance and let up on Adrian's wrist. Then it was Adrian's turn to try and relieve the form now on top of him of its jeans.
Rorschach responded by biting Adrian on the shoulder-with teeth, but not with so much pressure as to actually do damage. It was a move meant more to distract than anything else, and judging from the cry that came from Adrian, it succeeded. Rorschach slipped free of the scissor-hold, his face on fire with triumph. His smile was all predatory curiosity.
Standing quickly, he grabbed Adrian by the wrists and dragged him a few feet onto the Persian rug just beyond the coffee table. Adrian was curious enough about his plan to allow this to happen.
“A little more comfortable for you,” Rorschach said, taking a few steps back.
“Why, thank you,” Adrian said sarcastically, doubting that he was the only one who preferred a softer surface.
Rorschach slipped off his jeans-which were almost falling down anyway-revealing plain gray flannel boxers underneath. His face was flushed from exertion and he, too, was clearly already excited.
“Now you,” he said, gesturing at Adrian with his nose. Adrian obediently slipped off his pants and threw them clear of the rug. Rorschach shifted his weight to one foot, crossed his arms over his chest and regarded his partner.. The overall effect made Adrian's feel like his heart stopped for a second.
“Now turn over.” Adrian complied, and soon felt the Rorschach's slight weight settle around him again, just above his knees. He bit him again, on the ball of the shoulder, this time without teeth. Then he shifted up the shoulder just a bit. By this time, Adrian had the idea, and raised up enough to bow his head, offering up sensitive spot at the base of his neck. He cried out when Rorschach obliged.
“There we go,” Adrian heard him say. “Heh. Never difficult to figure out what you like.”
He proceeded down Adrian's body, nipping at his ribs, at his side, at his spine as he arched in response. Adrian gradually pulled his knees underneath him and stretched his arms out before him. The other man tauntingly varied the sharpness and intensity of his bites based on Adrian's gasps, moans and other reactions.
Then came the sensation of one finger, massaging the outside of a very sensitive area through the satin of Adrian's black boxer shorts .
Adrian lay there and submitted to this, but just for a moment. Then he pulled away and turned, sitting up again. Rorschach was crouched across from him now. In one quick movement, Adrian swept the other man's feet out from under him, then pulled him onto his back on the rug.
“Don't dish it out,” he told him, “if you can't take it.”
“Hey,” Rorschach warned, as Adrian knelt at his feet, “don't forget the rules..!”
“I won't,” Adrian said. He slowly worked his way up his companion's lower body, biting first one leg and then the other with the same sort of gentle, mostly-toothless bites. He moved from the shins up to the inner thighs, reveling in the slight feeling of resistance as he moved the knees further apart, reveling further to feel it give away. With his hands, he applied pressure to strategic spots on the sides of the ankles. He paused in this, slowly stealing up to pull down the waistband of the shorts just slightly. He slowly licked one long, horizontal stretch just above the hairline-the most he imagined he could get away with. Eyes closed, Rorschach writhed slightly under this attention, and whispered Adrian's name.
It was Adrian's turn to light up with triumph, and his turn to lean close to the other man's ear. “Now that's what I like to hear,” he said, with a purr that would have made his pet lynx proud.
“That's enough”, Rorschach said gruffly, panting and raising one hand. “That's enough, that's enough.”
Adrian was not sure whether it was some hang-up or merely sensory overload that brought on that plea-most likely some combination of both. Either way, he sat back and waited, a few feet away, as the moment passed. His partner's breathing returned to normal and his arms and hands relaxed. Rorschach sat up, and appeared to be about to say something, but Adrian sprang to his feet and extended his hand. Somewhat to his surprise, Rorschach took it, and soon stood across from him.
If Adrian had been on the receiving end of the first kiss, he initiated this one, equally fierce and hungry. He carefully propelled them both a few feet backwards towards the nearest wall. When Rorschach attempted to reverse things, placing Adrian against the wall, he knocked them both into a nearby display pedestal. The vase on top fell and shattered..
“Well, now look what you've made me do, Rorschach said, as they both paused to stare at the new spray of powder on the floor.
“Don't worry about it,” Adrian said. “Nothing in here that's valuable is breakable.”
Again the eye contact, again that dangerous half-grin. “That's what you think!”
“Oh! Oh is that so? Adrian said, putting one first on his hip. “Do your worst.”
He didn't struggle as Rorschach bent one of his arms carefully but firmly behind his back. He found himself slammed into the opposite wall, which was caddy-cornered from where they stood, and had to throw out the other hand to keep from hitting it with center mass. When the other man abruptly yanked down Adrian's boxers, Adrian merely stepped out and kicked them clear. When Rorschach removed his own shorts, however, Adrian attempted to turn around, only to be pressed further against the wall. He stepped backwards with all of his weight, pushing Rorschach off balance, then jabbed backwards with an elbow that barely missed, but succeeded in getting his captor to let him go. With both hands now free, he grabbed Rorschach by the arms, just underneath the shoulders. He held him there for a moment, in front of him, and raked him with his gaze, head to foot.
“Well?” Rorschach finally asked defiantly. There were shadows in his eyes. “Well?”
Adrian's mouth twitched with a barely perceptible smirk. Wordlessly, he turned and put his hands out, bracing himself against the wall.
Just a second,” an uncharacteristically enthusiastic-sounding Rorschach. “Don't even. Turn. Around.” Adrian sighed, bowing his head, but obeyed.
He heard bare feet padding quickly across tile, but then lost the sound. When he heard nothing more after a few seconds, he risked a glance over his shoulder, only to be genuinely startled by Rorschach's sudden appearance on his other side. He had to admit, he was impressed. The other man had moved as quietly as Adrian himself could ever hope to.
Rorschach reached over and pushed Adrian's hands together, revealing that he now had his tie in his other hand. Adrian's already elevated heart rate quickened even more. He got the delicious feel of one bare thigh against his as Rorschach quickly bound his hands together. The ultimate knot was tied tight enough, even with the stretchy material, that Adrian flinched.
Adrian swore internally. Had he mentioned this to Rorschach at some point, and forgotten it? Or was it a lucky guess? Perhaps an actual precaution? Adrian felt an almost pathological need to control of most situations-it was just part of his personality. As the CEO of a multinational corporation and all-around do-gooder, he had more than his share of responsibility. He relished the opportunity to give up that control. He willingly but necessarily took the submissive role in most of his sexual interactions-after all, he was stronger and faster than anyone he knew. Right now, however, he had a sensation of helplessness that would have been intoxicating no matter who he had been with.
Now, Rorschach positioned himself behind Adrian, hands on his hips, and entered him slowly. Adrian chose this last moment to resist, tilting his hips forward to control how deep the other man could go. With a growl, Rorschach pulled him backwards and pushed in further. Adrian gaped in soundless shock, both at the penetration and and at the heat of his partner's skin. His hip-bones were predictably sharp and prominent, but it was as if he had some sort of internal furnace.
They fell into a motion now familiar to the both. They weren't far at all from the wall, but Adrian bent his elbows, and leaned forward as much as he could to make things easier. One hand slipped around to massage not his shaft, which was now almost painfully hard, but the tender flesh right underneath it. In just the time that they'd been coming together like this, that was something that they had learned worked for him, something that helped put him over the edge. Sure enough, he soon felt a quicksilver tension building deep within him. He subtly bit down on one of his bound hands, hoping that it would go unnoticed.
No such luck. Rorschach slowed his motion considerably, and raised one hand to pull Adrian's hands away. “You got somethin' to say, blondie?” he asked.
“Um, 'Oh, God, please don't stop'?” Adrian offered, sparing a chuckle at his own expense.
“Heh. I thought it might be something like that.”
They resumed their rhythm, and it wasn't long before that quicksilver-fire feeling shot through Adrian's form, overwhelming him altogether. His knees buckled slightly, but he remained standing. Moments later, he felt the other man come to his own shuddering climax, and then pull out. Only then did Adrian permit himself to sink to the floor.
Rorschach did likewise, and Adrian had an instant of mind-erasing surprise as he leaned against him, placing his brow against Adrian's shoulder as he caught his breath. As quickly as this happened, however, it was over, and Rorschach slumped into a sitting position across from him.
As soon as his own breath was back, Adrian slipped free of his necktie bond with ease, then tossed the tie onto the coffee table. A look of irritation cross Rorschach's face. Surely, Adrian thought, he must have known that he'd submitted to that willingly, and that most knots posed him no problem?
Adrian scrambled unsteadily to his feet. “Stay right there,” he said. “I'll be back in a second.” He clutched at his throat and then cleared it, surprised at the sound of his voice. He must have been screaming, toward the end. A lot. He didn't even remember. That was the way it usually went, though-himself, so vocal, and Rorschach so quiet. Adrian reflected that that it was the opposite of what most people would expect of them. Or was it?
Link to Part 2