For: initial_aitch From: findmyantidrug
Author: findmyantidrug
Title: What This Isn’t
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dan, Rorschach
Warnings: Handjob, blowjob, orgasm denial, whiffs of dub-con (though it's not really).
Summary: In which Rorschach guards himself and Dan lets him.
What This Isn’t
Rorschach’s not drunk.
And Dan’s not even going to call him out on his bullshit, on the lack of any physical manifestation of a drug, because Rorschach is holding his forearm and pretending to stagger against his shoulder.
He’s not going to think about Rorschach’s opinion of him, because this is not a test and there’s nothing to feel guilty about.
-
When Dan pushes up Rorschach’s mask, his cheeks are dark but not splotchy and not sweaty, and when they kiss, Dan can taste the remains of a hard cinnamon candy and the sandwich he must have eaten for supper. No alcohol, no metallic tang of adrenaline.
-
On their way up the stairs, Rorschach is careful to slur Dan’s name, very quietly, and though he’s tempering it into what he needs it to be, there is a genuine tenderness that makes Dan want to tell him that he knows, that he’d never do this if he didn’t. He decides telling him would just be redundant. Instead, he opens his bedroom door, smoothes a hand through his hair, and watches Rorschach perch, no longer swaying or rambling, on the edge of his bed.
“Maybe I should,” he begins. Rorschach looks at the clock on Dan’s side-table and starts to pick off his gloves, finger by finger. That’s not what he needs, a voice in the back of his head murmurs, so Dan shuts the door behind him.
-
Rorschach lets Dan take control at first, rolling back against his pillows and propping up on his elbows. As Dan fumbles with his shirt, Rorschach watches and waits, patient, withdrawn in the stiff way he tugs down the hem of his vest. The darkness of the room makes it difficult to tell for certain, but Dan thinks the front of his pinstripes is already tenting; he wonders absently why.
“Here, let me…” Slipping a hand under Rorschach’s layers, he starts to undress him. They don’t kiss and Rorschach doesn’t move to touch him.
Dan’s reminded painfully of the first time he had sex; he feels so static, like he’s not even a participant despite the fact he’s the one doing all the work. “Hey,” he starts to say, then changes his mind and kisses Rorschach as he works on unbuttoning the other man’s pants. Rorschach twitches, sucking in a low breath through his nose, when Dan’s knuckles brush at his half-erect cock.
It’s only after Dan’s worked his underwear and pants down to his thighs that Rorschach grabs onto Dan’s shoulders. When he doesn’t do more than tense and relax his grip, Dan pulls back from his mouth and mutters, “Come on, Rorschach, touch me. Please?”
He complies, rubbing at Dan’s neck and chest, albeit so mechanically that it makes Dan want to jerk him off just to loosen him up. Well. It’s a start.
-
Rorschach bares his teeth and knocks the back of his head against the headboard when Dan licks at his nipple, experimenting. There doesn’t seem to be many spots that are more sensitive than others, which is probably just Rorschach’s reticence at work. Encouraged by the movement, if not by his perpetual silence, Dan picks up the pace of his hand until Rorschach is squirming, lifting and settling his knees and restlessly scraping his fingers down Dan’s arm.
“No,” he blurts out. Before Dan can ask what the matter is, he takes Dan’s hand in his own and shifts his grip, setting a pace between the two of them. A throb of pleasure between his legs makes Dan bite his lip, startled.
“Oh, uh, okay.” Once Rorschach’s satisfied that Dan will keep up the movements on his own, he hooks his fingers into Dan’s belt loops and tugs him closer. Dan expects his touches to pick up again as he trails kisses along Rorschach’s collarbone, but instead Rorschach loops his arms around his neck. He remains that way a moment, hips bucking up, back arched off the bed. Dan scrapes his teeth against Rorschach’s shoulder, testing his reaction, but as soon as he does Rorschach groans and flips them, settling with a heavy thud on Dan’s thighs.
Dan coughs out a breath and recovers enough to stammer, “Jesus, a little warning?” before Rorschach slips off and sinks between his legs. “Rorschach.” Rorschach pauses and tilts his head up.
“Stay still,” Rorschach instructs. Dan fidgets and curls his fingers around his sheets, but nods. It’s only when Rorschach leans his open mouth between Dan’s legs that Dan jerks in surprise and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Listen, if you’re going to…could you maybe…?” Flushing, acutely aware of his cock starting to stiffen at the suggestion, Dan gestures from his nose down.
Rorschach frowns at him a long minute, presumably until he remembers that he’s supposed to be a friendly drunk. Without complaint or fanfare, he jerks the mask back down over his chin, leans forward.
Dan shudders.
-
When Rorschach lowers his mouth over the head of Dan’s cock, black shapes explode out from the tip to circle over his hollowing cheeks. Dan can see a streak of come shining where Rorschach’s mouth has been, breaking up the spots of black; Rorschach’s puffs of breath are warm and wet through the latex. For the first time since they’ve started this, Dan can feel himself blanking out, his trepidation sluicing out. A part of him thinks it’s better that the mask is down; for practical purposes, that is - the blunt edges of Rorschach’s teeth are dulled by the fabric between them and his obvious inexperience is compensated by the constraints of the mask.
His tongue shoves against Dan’s shaft, the slickness of his mask making Dan moan and struggle to keep his body still. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice (not dissimilar from Rorschach’s) chants that this is wrong, soiling Rorschach’s mask for sex because Dan doesn’t want to offend him. Then Rorschach edges the head of Dan’s cock into his mouth, the black at the center filtering into white at the edges of his lips, and the voice quiets.
Dan gently cups Rorschach’s cheeks with his palms, strokes patterns across his jaw and under his eyes with his thumbs. Rorschach makes a frustrated sound and dips his head down, mouthing at the sides of Dan’s penis. (Dan notices Rorschach’s hands digging into the mattress, wants to tell him that it’s okay if he wants to touch himself. He doesn’t.)
Each motion is a new streak of pleasure dimming Dan’s thoughts, making it harder to not buck against Rorschach’s mask. He needs to tell Rorschach, he thinks; he can’t come on his face, God no, but when he tries to speak he only manages wordless little groans that make Rorschach suck in a sharp breath and jerk his hips against the mattress.
It’s Rorschach clumsily taking Dan into his mouth the second time, the hot stretch of the latex and lave of Rorschach’s tongue, that does Dan in. He pushes at Rorschach’s shoulders just as his sensitivity peaks, snapping through him, though once Rorschach sees his first convulsion he sits up ramrod straight.
He waits until Dan’s spent to roll up his mask, careful to only touch the underside as he does. Rorschach’s still fully erect, skin flush, but when Dan hesitantly reaches for him he recoils and catches Dan’s hand. “That’s enough, Daniel,” he pants. His voice’s waver is sincere, now.
“Oh.” Dan switches the hold, pulls Rorschach next to him. “Are you -”
“Quite certain.” Rorschach keeps one hand on Dan’s arm as the other tugs the edges of the blanket up to cover himself. Dan notes that Rorschach’s not bothering to pretend he’s drunk, anymore. He doesn’t let himself wonder what that means.
-
Dan doesn’t realize he’s drifted off until he wakes up to Rorschach climbing off the bed, dressed. He almost says something (what is there really to say, anyway?), but when Rorschach tilts his head towards him and ties his trench coat shut, the sentiment shuts down.
Rorschach makes a point of hitting into the doorframe with his shoulder as he walks out.
-
This time tomorrow, Dan will lay where Rorschach did and remind himself that they are partners and that nothing has changed, because Rorschach doesn’t.
“Look,” he’ll say the next time he sees Rorschach, which won’t take any time at all, “I don’t want things to go sour between us, so…”
Rorschach will take a slow breath; on the exhale he’ll look up into Dan’s face and ask, “Did something happen?"
Dan will carry the weight of the blame without another word.
Title: What This Isn’t
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dan, Rorschach
Warnings: Handjob, blowjob, orgasm denial, whiffs of dub-con (though it's not really).
Summary: In which Rorschach guards himself and Dan lets him.
What This Isn’t
Rorschach’s not drunk.
And Dan’s not even going to call him out on his bullshit, on the lack of any physical manifestation of a drug, because Rorschach is holding his forearm and pretending to stagger against his shoulder.
He’s not going to think about Rorschach’s opinion of him, because this is not a test and there’s nothing to feel guilty about.
-
When Dan pushes up Rorschach’s mask, his cheeks are dark but not splotchy and not sweaty, and when they kiss, Dan can taste the remains of a hard cinnamon candy and the sandwich he must have eaten for supper. No alcohol, no metallic tang of adrenaline.
-
On their way up the stairs, Rorschach is careful to slur Dan’s name, very quietly, and though he’s tempering it into what he needs it to be, there is a genuine tenderness that makes Dan want to tell him that he knows, that he’d never do this if he didn’t. He decides telling him would just be redundant. Instead, he opens his bedroom door, smoothes a hand through his hair, and watches Rorschach perch, no longer swaying or rambling, on the edge of his bed.
“Maybe I should,” he begins. Rorschach looks at the clock on Dan’s side-table and starts to pick off his gloves, finger by finger. That’s not what he needs, a voice in the back of his head murmurs, so Dan shuts the door behind him.
-
Rorschach lets Dan take control at first, rolling back against his pillows and propping up on his elbows. As Dan fumbles with his shirt, Rorschach watches and waits, patient, withdrawn in the stiff way he tugs down the hem of his vest. The darkness of the room makes it difficult to tell for certain, but Dan thinks the front of his pinstripes is already tenting; he wonders absently why.
“Here, let me…” Slipping a hand under Rorschach’s layers, he starts to undress him. They don’t kiss and Rorschach doesn’t move to touch him.
Dan’s reminded painfully of the first time he had sex; he feels so static, like he’s not even a participant despite the fact he’s the one doing all the work. “Hey,” he starts to say, then changes his mind and kisses Rorschach as he works on unbuttoning the other man’s pants. Rorschach twitches, sucking in a low breath through his nose, when Dan’s knuckles brush at his half-erect cock.
It’s only after Dan’s worked his underwear and pants down to his thighs that Rorschach grabs onto Dan’s shoulders. When he doesn’t do more than tense and relax his grip, Dan pulls back from his mouth and mutters, “Come on, Rorschach, touch me. Please?”
He complies, rubbing at Dan’s neck and chest, albeit so mechanically that it makes Dan want to jerk him off just to loosen him up. Well. It’s a start.
-
Rorschach bares his teeth and knocks the back of his head against the headboard when Dan licks at his nipple, experimenting. There doesn’t seem to be many spots that are more sensitive than others, which is probably just Rorschach’s reticence at work. Encouraged by the movement, if not by his perpetual silence, Dan picks up the pace of his hand until Rorschach is squirming, lifting and settling his knees and restlessly scraping his fingers down Dan’s arm.
“No,” he blurts out. Before Dan can ask what the matter is, he takes Dan’s hand in his own and shifts his grip, setting a pace between the two of them. A throb of pleasure between his legs makes Dan bite his lip, startled.
“Oh, uh, okay.” Once Rorschach’s satisfied that Dan will keep up the movements on his own, he hooks his fingers into Dan’s belt loops and tugs him closer. Dan expects his touches to pick up again as he trails kisses along Rorschach’s collarbone, but instead Rorschach loops his arms around his neck. He remains that way a moment, hips bucking up, back arched off the bed. Dan scrapes his teeth against Rorschach’s shoulder, testing his reaction, but as soon as he does Rorschach groans and flips them, settling with a heavy thud on Dan’s thighs.
Dan coughs out a breath and recovers enough to stammer, “Jesus, a little warning?” before Rorschach slips off and sinks between his legs. “Rorschach.” Rorschach pauses and tilts his head up.
“Stay still,” Rorschach instructs. Dan fidgets and curls his fingers around his sheets, but nods. It’s only when Rorschach leans his open mouth between Dan’s legs that Dan jerks in surprise and puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Listen, if you’re going to…could you maybe…?” Flushing, acutely aware of his cock starting to stiffen at the suggestion, Dan gestures from his nose down.
Rorschach frowns at him a long minute, presumably until he remembers that he’s supposed to be a friendly drunk. Without complaint or fanfare, he jerks the mask back down over his chin, leans forward.
Dan shudders.
-
When Rorschach lowers his mouth over the head of Dan’s cock, black shapes explode out from the tip to circle over his hollowing cheeks. Dan can see a streak of come shining where Rorschach’s mouth has been, breaking up the spots of black; Rorschach’s puffs of breath are warm and wet through the latex. For the first time since they’ve started this, Dan can feel himself blanking out, his trepidation sluicing out. A part of him thinks it’s better that the mask is down; for practical purposes, that is - the blunt edges of Rorschach’s teeth are dulled by the fabric between them and his obvious inexperience is compensated by the constraints of the mask.
His tongue shoves against Dan’s shaft, the slickness of his mask making Dan moan and struggle to keep his body still. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice (not dissimilar from Rorschach’s) chants that this is wrong, soiling Rorschach’s mask for sex because Dan doesn’t want to offend him. Then Rorschach edges the head of Dan’s cock into his mouth, the black at the center filtering into white at the edges of his lips, and the voice quiets.
Dan gently cups Rorschach’s cheeks with his palms, strokes patterns across his jaw and under his eyes with his thumbs. Rorschach makes a frustrated sound and dips his head down, mouthing at the sides of Dan’s penis. (Dan notices Rorschach’s hands digging into the mattress, wants to tell him that it’s okay if he wants to touch himself. He doesn’t.)
Each motion is a new streak of pleasure dimming Dan’s thoughts, making it harder to not buck against Rorschach’s mask. He needs to tell Rorschach, he thinks; he can’t come on his face, God no, but when he tries to speak he only manages wordless little groans that make Rorschach suck in a sharp breath and jerk his hips against the mattress.
It’s Rorschach clumsily taking Dan into his mouth the second time, the hot stretch of the latex and lave of Rorschach’s tongue, that does Dan in. He pushes at Rorschach’s shoulders just as his sensitivity peaks, snapping through him, though once Rorschach sees his first convulsion he sits up ramrod straight.
He waits until Dan’s spent to roll up his mask, careful to only touch the underside as he does. Rorschach’s still fully erect, skin flush, but when Dan hesitantly reaches for him he recoils and catches Dan’s hand. “That’s enough, Daniel,” he pants. His voice’s waver is sincere, now.
“Oh.” Dan switches the hold, pulls Rorschach next to him. “Are you -”
“Quite certain.” Rorschach keeps one hand on Dan’s arm as the other tugs the edges of the blanket up to cover himself. Dan notes that Rorschach’s not bothering to pretend he’s drunk, anymore. He doesn’t let himself wonder what that means.
-
Dan doesn’t realize he’s drifted off until he wakes up to Rorschach climbing off the bed, dressed. He almost says something (what is there really to say, anyway?), but when Rorschach tilts his head towards him and ties his trench coat shut, the sentiment shuts down.
Rorschach makes a point of hitting into the doorframe with his shoulder as he walks out.
-
This time tomorrow, Dan will lay where Rorschach did and remind himself that they are partners and that nothing has changed, because Rorschach doesn’t.
“Look,” he’ll say the next time he sees Rorschach, which won’t take any time at all, “I don’t want things to go sour between us, so…”
Rorschach will take a slow breath; on the exhale he’ll look up into Dan’s face and ask, “Did something happen?"
Dan will carry the weight of the blame without another word.