FIC: Something Sweet, Something Not (Adult Content Warning)
Title: Something Sweet, Something Not
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairings: Rorschach/Dan
Date Written: 2010
Summary: Rorschach enjoys his gift. Dan doesn't, so much.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, again pretty humorous.
Notes: This was pretty meta. KM prompt for Dan and Rorschach discovering the kinkmeme and making their own prompts led to Dan prompting for Rorschach eating candy off of him and Rorschach prompting (in retribution) for Dan at the receiving end of orgasm denial. Which led to this. Hope you all enjoy it more than Dan did.
*
Rorschach stares at the cheesy, heart-shaped box of chocolates in his hands.
"They're uh," Dan says, flustered, and a little annoyed with Rorschach for making him feel flustered over something this goddamned simple. "A gift, you know?"
"A gift."
"Yeah. No occasion."
Rorschach opens the box, looks in at the grid of chocolate domes and squares and bars like they're going to bite him.
Dan sighs. "Look, will you just eat them, they're not going to kill you."
"My gift, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Free to enjoy it as I see fit."
Dan feels an immediate rush of terror; tamps down on it as he smiles and nods and tries to keep on smiling.
*
Fine confectionery, he's learned, is an art form. And half of all art is in the arrangement. He'd been too tied up to protest at the time, hands over head and feet to the bottom bedposts, knots worked as quickly and unforgivingly as they are on the street.
Bare-ass naked, too, and that's probably a good thing, or this would be messy. Messier. Whatever.
A coconut creme is balanced precariously on the knot of his throat, wobbles every time he swallows. Caramel squares and fruit jellies, cracked open and glued with their fillings to his stomach, his nipples, to the insides of his thighs. A cherry cordial's juice has been dribbled on his balls, the cherry itself tucked between them and the base of his cock. Every sensitive inch of skin he has, every spot that makes him writhe and moan to test teeth or tongue on, has been decorated with chocolate and sugar.
Rorschach told him not to move, and he hasn't, but it's a difficult, difficult thing.
And now Rorschach's sitting back on his heels between Dan's spread legs, still fully clothed, holding the last candy between his fingers and contemplating. The dark chocolate is shiny, catches the faint light from the hallway, looks wet and slippery and-
Teeth shear away the bottom of the chocolate and before Dan can react, Rorschach settles the filled dome to the end of his cock, presses it down snugly, watches the white buttercream filling ooze out and dribble down.
Dan whines, piteously.
"My gift," Rorschach reminds him, discarding the box, and leans down to suck the caramel and chocolate right off of his skin.
The restraints go tight as Dan bucks, but they hold, and the mouth closes over his throat next, before the sweet there topples off and is lost. It lingers long after the candy's gone, lips and tongue working the skin for stray flavor, pressing over his pulse.
"Your gift," Dan says, low, reveling in the pleased way Rorschach hums against the vibration.
The tongue trails down his body, stopping to swirl the candy from one nipple, slow and careful. By the time he moves to the other, Dan has given up fighting the ropes and is just feeling-the hunger, the desire to consume, to posses completely, to take Dan inside himself with every crumb of sugar-so by the time most of the box is gone, the cordial lapped up and the cherry devoured, it's no surprise he's right on the edge.
Rorschach hesitates over his cock, open mouth breathing heat and need down around him, and Dan feels like he could come right now, all he needs is-
Then the mouth is around him, is chewing the chocolate carefully away from his flesh, is taking its time, savoring. Dan whines again, as the hot wet tongue circles his head, sucking up every last bit of cream, and the heat is rising in him and then, and then-
And then it's gone, cold air of the room chilling against the wet straining flesh, and Dan curses, long and loud. It's creative, and it's filthy, and it's spurred on by the roiling heat in his groin, churning unhappily just too low to crest.
When he finally runs out of steam, he opens his eyes. Rorschach's on the edge of the bed, licking his lips thoughtfully-then one long, strong finger, sucked in to the second knuckle before he releases it.
Dan could cry. He tugs ineffectually at the restraints, instead.
"Very enjoyable gift, Daniel," Rorschach finally says, standing from the bed. "Thank you. Very thoughtful."
"Rorschach, please."
"Will throw away refuse," he says, picking up the discarded box. "Know you dislike it when I leave trash around."
"Please, you can't-"
"Wouldn't want to be inconsiderate, after all," and he grins, just a little, and his mouth is smeared in chocolate and shining white and it's too much and-
And he leaves, and damn him but Dan does hear the sound of the trash can open and close before the basement door does.
Dan lies in the dark, rope burning his wrists and ankles, covered in drying saliva and the tracest bits of sweet and sweat, and whimpers.
*
Fandom: Watchmen
Characters/Pairings: Rorschach/Dan
Date Written: 2010
Summary: Rorschach enjoys his gift. Dan doesn't, so much.
Rating/Warnings: NC-17, again pretty humorous.
Notes: This was pretty meta. KM prompt for Dan and Rorschach discovering the kinkmeme and making their own prompts led to Dan prompting for Rorschach eating candy off of him and Rorschach prompting (in retribution) for Dan at the receiving end of orgasm denial. Which led to this. Hope you all enjoy it more than Dan did.
*
Rorschach stares at the cheesy, heart-shaped box of chocolates in his hands.
"They're uh," Dan says, flustered, and a little annoyed with Rorschach for making him feel flustered over something this goddamned simple. "A gift, you know?"
"A gift."
"Yeah. No occasion."
Rorschach opens the box, looks in at the grid of chocolate domes and squares and bars like they're going to bite him.
Dan sighs. "Look, will you just eat them, they're not going to kill you."
"My gift, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Free to enjoy it as I see fit."
Dan feels an immediate rush of terror; tamps down on it as he smiles and nods and tries to keep on smiling.
*
Fine confectionery, he's learned, is an art form. And half of all art is in the arrangement. He'd been too tied up to protest at the time, hands over head and feet to the bottom bedposts, knots worked as quickly and unforgivingly as they are on the street.
Bare-ass naked, too, and that's probably a good thing, or this would be messy. Messier. Whatever.
A coconut creme is balanced precariously on the knot of his throat, wobbles every time he swallows. Caramel squares and fruit jellies, cracked open and glued with their fillings to his stomach, his nipples, to the insides of his thighs. A cherry cordial's juice has been dribbled on his balls, the cherry itself tucked between them and the base of his cock. Every sensitive inch of skin he has, every spot that makes him writhe and moan to test teeth or tongue on, has been decorated with chocolate and sugar.
Rorschach told him not to move, and he hasn't, but it's a difficult, difficult thing.
And now Rorschach's sitting back on his heels between Dan's spread legs, still fully clothed, holding the last candy between his fingers and contemplating. The dark chocolate is shiny, catches the faint light from the hallway, looks wet and slippery and-
Teeth shear away the bottom of the chocolate and before Dan can react, Rorschach settles the filled dome to the end of his cock, presses it down snugly, watches the white buttercream filling ooze out and dribble down.
Dan whines, piteously.
"My gift," Rorschach reminds him, discarding the box, and leans down to suck the caramel and chocolate right off of his skin.
The restraints go tight as Dan bucks, but they hold, and the mouth closes over his throat next, before the sweet there topples off and is lost. It lingers long after the candy's gone, lips and tongue working the skin for stray flavor, pressing over his pulse.
"Your gift," Dan says, low, reveling in the pleased way Rorschach hums against the vibration.
The tongue trails down his body, stopping to swirl the candy from one nipple, slow and careful. By the time he moves to the other, Dan has given up fighting the ropes and is just feeling-the hunger, the desire to consume, to posses completely, to take Dan inside himself with every crumb of sugar-so by the time most of the box is gone, the cordial lapped up and the cherry devoured, it's no surprise he's right on the edge.
Rorschach hesitates over his cock, open mouth breathing heat and need down around him, and Dan feels like he could come right now, all he needs is-
Then the mouth is around him, is chewing the chocolate carefully away from his flesh, is taking its time, savoring. Dan whines again, as the hot wet tongue circles his head, sucking up every last bit of cream, and the heat is rising in him and then, and then-
And then it's gone, cold air of the room chilling against the wet straining flesh, and Dan curses, long and loud. It's creative, and it's filthy, and it's spurred on by the roiling heat in his groin, churning unhappily just too low to crest.
When he finally runs out of steam, he opens his eyes. Rorschach's on the edge of the bed, licking his lips thoughtfully-then one long, strong finger, sucked in to the second knuckle before he releases it.
Dan could cry. He tugs ineffectually at the restraints, instead.
"Very enjoyable gift, Daniel," Rorschach finally says, standing from the bed. "Thank you. Very thoughtful."
"Rorschach, please."
"Will throw away refuse," he says, picking up the discarded box. "Know you dislike it when I leave trash around."
"Please, you can't-"
"Wouldn't want to be inconsiderate, after all," and he grins, just a little, and his mouth is smeared in chocolate and shining white and it's too much and-
And he leaves, and damn him but Dan does hear the sound of the trash can open and close before the basement door does.
Dan lies in the dark, rope burning his wrists and ankles, covered in drying saliva and the tracest bits of sweet and sweat, and whimpers.
*