Fic - "Nocturnal Admissions," 1/1
Title: Nocturnal Admissions 1/1
Pairing Rorschach/Dan in the early days of their partnership
Rating: NC-17. Yes, it is porn. Porny porn porn.
Disclaimer: Alan Moore would be rolling over in his grave, if he was in his grave. PLEASE DON'T KILL ME, ALAN MOORE. IT'S ALL DONE OUT OF LOVE.
Word Count: 2289
Summary: This was originally done for the kinkmeme prompt "Rorschach discovers Dan sleeps in the buff," which sparked my imagination (and rightly so). First fic in a new fandom.
It was three AM on a Saturday and his stomach was growling.
Rorschach woke up out of a sound sleep, nagged to consciousness by hunger. The adrenaline-fueled rampage he'd gone on a few hours ago was producing powerful demands for sustenance. He'd lay there for almost ten minutes struggling with himself, but eventually Walter - who was twenty-four and had certain needs, one of which was food - won out over Rorschach's sense of propriety. He rolled off the cot, crossed the dark basement to the metal stairs, and padded up them gently in his mask, rumpled pinstripe pants and wifebeater. He didn't like removing his coat and jacket outside of the safety of his own apartment, but they were terribly uncomfortable to sleep in.
He'd been sacked out on the cot in Daniel's basement. It wasn't much, just a thin mattress and a hollow-leg frame that Daniel often stubbed his toes on, but unfailingly it had fresh, soft sheets and a clean wooly blanket. On nights when Rorschach had spent every last bit of his wiry strength on beating miscreants unconscious and absolutely couldn't drag himself back to his own apartment, it was a godsend.
Dan had tried repeatedly to convince him to sleep in the townhouse's guest bedroom or on the couch at the very least, but Rorschach always refused. The tunnels were damp and chilly, but they made it a lot easier to escape on short notice. Moreover, he always felt a little like he was imposing on his partner, using his house. They'd only been a steady team for a few months and although Nite Owl was already perfectly comfortable slipping back into Daniel around Rorschach, Rorschach had never before seriously countenanced the notion of a voluntary close relationship with another person and Daniel's apparent liking of him was very perplexing. But whenever his mind would wander into certain corners, it would go skittering off of them like a bullet fired at a metal surface. Rorschach felt as though availing himself of the upper floors of the house - the "Daniel" part of the house, he referred to it in his mind - was to break a wall between them that he very, very much wanted to stay built.
That was about to change. At the top of the stairs he wasn't sure which door to open. He'd never been in Daniel's kitchen before. There was a narrow door at the end of the short hallway he was in that was probably a closet - this was confirmed by silently opening the door to reveal stacks of fastidiously folded clean towels and sheets - and three additional doors, all of which were identical and none of which held a clue to which one might lead to the kitchen. He gently turned the nearest doorknob, hoping for stainless steel and a refrigerator.
Daniel was completely naked.
Thankfully, he was also completely asleep. Rorschach tried to jerk the door closed. Walter tried to open it wider. Consequently, it stayed exactly as it was - half-open and with an utterly flabbergasted vigilante motionless in the dark hallway, having a furious internal struggle with himself.
Daniel was stretched out on his right side, the sheet and plaid flannel comforter piled next to him. His left hand was draped carelessly over his hip and his brown hair spilled across his face. His mouth was open slightly. He was obviously having some kind of upsetting nightmare, his right hand absently fisting the sheet, torso twisting slightly back and forth, covered with a light, glistening sheen of sweat. As Walter's eyes traveled over his shadowed body, he couldn't help but notice that his partner was hard. Hard and breathing heavily. It was absolutely indecent, wanton.
That kind of dream.
Walter was no stranger to that kind of dream, but he always woke from them feeling ridiculous and ashamed of himself. Daniel, however, looked like he was very much enjoying whatever was going on in his head.
He was also not the only one breathing heavily. Walter was trying to decide whether he wanted to look at Daniel's moonlit face or his leaking cock and compromising by trying to take in the entire tableau. Rorschach was planning possible escape routes and methods of suicide. He took a tentative step further into the room and moved closer, very close to his partner's bed, totally entranced. He was aghast at himself, but seemed helpless to control his legs. Or eyes. Or, it seemed, his own cock. He was aware of the erection straining against the front of his purple pinstripes as he watched Daniel bite his lower lip in his sleep and his own tongue swept out to lick his lips, tasting the plasticky, salty flavors of the inside of his mask.
Unfortunately, Rorschach and Walter shared a stomach and it chose that moment to let off an absurdly loud growl that, to his horrified ears, seemed to go on for several minutes and echo around the room. He froze and closed his eyes in the vain and ridiculous hope that it would make him invisible, and opened them a half-second later.
Nite Owl was awake. Nite Owl was awake and looking at him. Rorschach wanted to hit him, and hit him hard, for having the nerve to sleep in the nude with an unlocked door so that any hapless wandering vigilante trying to steal food could walk in on him. Walter wanted to touch him. Both options seemed satisfying and vaguely enjoyable, but before he could consciously make a decision he found that his traitorous hand had stolen out and placed itself, horribly, on Daniel's hipbone. Rorschach looked at the hand as though it belonged to someone else entirely, an alien appendage that just happened to be stuck on the end of his arm.
Daniel reached up to him, acting as if it was a perfectly normal occurrence to find one's best friend hovering over one's bed in the middle of the night, seized him around the waist and pulled him down onto the bed. He rolled on top of the smaller man and ground his erection against Walter's. "Mmmmm," he breathed in the dark. "Christ, that fucking mask. Fuck. You're so. Uuuuunf. Come on, Rorschach, talk."
Walter opened his mouth and nothing came out, because Daniel had crushed his lips down on the inkblot mask. He left a trail of biting kisses from Walter's lower lip down the side of his neck and teeth closed sharply on the crook of his collarbone where the mask ended. Rorschach gasped out of shock and embarrassment and absolute incredulity that Nite Owl could be behaving in such a lewd and unacceptable fashion, Walter gasped because it felt sofuckinggood, and his treasonous body was responding with enthusiasm.
Daniel bit him three more times, punctuating the bites with words. "Talk," bite, "to," bite, "me." Sharp bite down on his left nipple through the fabric of his worn wifebeater. One of Walter's hands found Daniel's ass and grabbed it sharply, as though to reassure himself that he wasn't experiencing some kind of grotesque apparition. Daniel gasped. "Daniel... Daniel..." he managed throatily, "what the...Dan'l..."
"Call me Nite Owl!" his partner snarled, grinding their erections together. In the moonlight streaming through the window, Walter could see the red flush on the body above him. Daniel's hair hung in his face and one of his hands encircled one of Walter's wrists, pinning him down.
Walter had no idea what was going on and was fully keen on going along with it. "Nite Owl," he said, and Rorschach was appalled to hear it come out in his voice. He couldn't think of anything else to say - wasn't entirely sure he could remember any other words - and anyway he liked the sound of it, so he said it several more times as Daniel breathed raggedly, unfastening his pinstriped pants. He was biting his wet, pink lower lip and sucking it into his mouth a little, an expression Walter recognized from patrols as his "concentration face" and which was, under these circumstances, even more enticing than usual.
He pushed the pants down over Walter's hips, no small feat considering he could hardly bring himself to stop grinding his cock against his partner. He glanced down appreciatively at Walter's freed erection, precome leaking copiously across the crown, and raised an eyebrow in the moonlight. "Redhead tonight, huh?"
Walter's hips bucked up reflexively against his. He wasn't sure if Daniel wasn't making sense or if his own brain had given up and left the room. "Hurm?"
"You've never been a redhead in my dreams before. Blonde, brunette, everything except red - but I definitely like it. " He grinned. "Is that what's on your head, too? One of these days I'll find out. 'Course, you'd beat me to a pulp if you knew this was happening." The eyebrow quirked upward again. He shifted backwards until he was kneeling between Walter's legs, leaned down and grabbed the hips in front of him, a devilish expression on his face. Warm, moist breath ghosted across Walter's groin and his mind blew hollow like an egg as he processed what Daniel was saying.
"Dream?" he croaked, as his partner's tongue flicked out and swept across the head of his cock, licking away several pearly drops. One of Walter's hands fisted itself in Daniel's fine brown hair. Inside his head and apparently immune to the things Daniel was doing with his mouth, Rorschach was being extremely assertive. Tell the truth. Daniel is your friend. Thinks he's dreaming. He's addled, he'll never be the same if you allow him to act like your whore. Never forgive you. Tell the truth.
Walter screwed his eyes shut and went for broke. "Not a dream, Nite Owl," he ground out between clenched teeth as Daniel was running his tongue slowly, leisurely, maddeningly around the head of his cock.
The tongue froze and the hands gripping his hipbones tightened slowly until Walter felt his partner's thumbs digging almost painfully into his skin. One of the hands left and Walter chanced opening an eye. Daniel was pinching himself and looking into Rorschach's face with an expression that rapidly flickered between terror, disbelief, and extreme arousal.
"Rorschach?" Daniel said hoarsely. "I mean, obviously, but...oh, fuck. Rorschach." He sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair. Walter's eyes lingered on his pink, swollen lower lip. "I...I... "
"All right, Daniel," Walter managed, feeling faintly ridiculous. He was still hard and his pinstriped pants were around his thighs. Nite Owl's saliva was all over him. "It was my fault. Looking for something to eat. Wasn't sure where the kitchen was and..."
"You let me," Daniel interrupted him in a curiously flat whisper, "you let me." He leaned forward with a sudden movement - a birdlike movement - and wrapped his lips back around Walter's cock.
Walter made a startled "Hrrrrk!" noise, pushing his hips forward. He grabbed the back of Daniel's head. "D - Nite Owl - oh. Oh." Rorschach was trying to tell him that he was disgusting, that it was unacceptably repulsive to have another man's mouth on you at all, but Walter wasn't listening. Nothing was repulsive about it when that mouth was generous and wide and warm and belonged to Daniel Dreiberg, who knew he wasn't a dream and wanted him anyway.
One of Daniel's hands was gripping his hip again, just hard enough to hurt. His lips slid gracefully up and down Walter's cock in a delicious rhythm, other hand stroking himself to match the rhythm of his mouth. He looked up at Walter's face - Rorschach's face - through the brown hair that was falling into his eyes and even though Walter knew his own eyes were shielded by white and black splotches, he had the sudden and unmistakable feeling that Daniel was looking right at him, right into him. The sensation was at once so alarming and so arousing that his hand tightened in Daniel's hair, he pumped two or three times into the mouth around his cock, grunted and came so hard he felt like he might black out. He was only dimly aware of the next thirty seconds in which Daniel swallowed, shuddered, gasped, and splattered come all over the bedsheet. He sat back on his heels, breathing heavily, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Walter jerked his legs off the bed and pulled his pants back up over his hips, avoiding Daniel's eyes. He stood up and tugged his mask further down, remembering the feeling of Daniel's lips through the thin material (and simultaneously trying as hard as possible to put it out of his mind.) He could hear Daniel's breaths behind him, could hear Daniel standing up, and he took three long strides toward the door and the relative safety of the hallway. The hallway led to the Owl's Nest, which led to the tunnels, which led to the streets and then to his apartment where he could spend the rest of his life trying and failing not to relive the last thirty minutes.
Daniel's legs were longer, though. He caught up with the smaller man and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Rorschach?"
Walter tensed like a cat, his hand on the doorknob. "Nite Owl."
"We should probably talk about this," Daniel hazarded helplessly, and even though Walter wasn't looking at him he could picture Daniel's posture, his expression. His swollen lower lip.
"Nothing to talk about, Daniel." Rorschach is back now, Rorschach is disgusted but miserably confident and strong as always and he looks back, looks into Daniel's face. "Was just a dream."
He's out the door.
Pairing Rorschach/Dan in the early days of their partnership
Rating: NC-17. Yes, it is porn. Porny porn porn.
Disclaimer: Alan Moore would be rolling over in his grave, if he was in his grave. PLEASE DON'T KILL ME, ALAN MOORE. IT'S ALL DONE OUT OF LOVE.
Word Count: 2289
Summary: This was originally done for the kinkmeme prompt "Rorschach discovers Dan sleeps in the buff," which sparked my imagination (and rightly so). First fic in a new fandom.
It was three AM on a Saturday and his stomach was growling.
Rorschach woke up out of a sound sleep, nagged to consciousness by hunger. The adrenaline-fueled rampage he'd gone on a few hours ago was producing powerful demands for sustenance. He'd lay there for almost ten minutes struggling with himself, but eventually Walter - who was twenty-four and had certain needs, one of which was food - won out over Rorschach's sense of propriety. He rolled off the cot, crossed the dark basement to the metal stairs, and padded up them gently in his mask, rumpled pinstripe pants and wifebeater. He didn't like removing his coat and jacket outside of the safety of his own apartment, but they were terribly uncomfortable to sleep in.
He'd been sacked out on the cot in Daniel's basement. It wasn't much, just a thin mattress and a hollow-leg frame that Daniel often stubbed his toes on, but unfailingly it had fresh, soft sheets and a clean wooly blanket. On nights when Rorschach had spent every last bit of his wiry strength on beating miscreants unconscious and absolutely couldn't drag himself back to his own apartment, it was a godsend.
Dan had tried repeatedly to convince him to sleep in the townhouse's guest bedroom or on the couch at the very least, but Rorschach always refused. The tunnels were damp and chilly, but they made it a lot easier to escape on short notice. Moreover, he always felt a little like he was imposing on his partner, using his house. They'd only been a steady team for a few months and although Nite Owl was already perfectly comfortable slipping back into Daniel around Rorschach, Rorschach had never before seriously countenanced the notion of a voluntary close relationship with another person and Daniel's apparent liking of him was very perplexing. But whenever his mind would wander into certain corners, it would go skittering off of them like a bullet fired at a metal surface. Rorschach felt as though availing himself of the upper floors of the house - the "Daniel" part of the house, he referred to it in his mind - was to break a wall between them that he very, very much wanted to stay built.
That was about to change. At the top of the stairs he wasn't sure which door to open. He'd never been in Daniel's kitchen before. There was a narrow door at the end of the short hallway he was in that was probably a closet - this was confirmed by silently opening the door to reveal stacks of fastidiously folded clean towels and sheets - and three additional doors, all of which were identical and none of which held a clue to which one might lead to the kitchen. He gently turned the nearest doorknob, hoping for stainless steel and a refrigerator.
Daniel was completely naked.
Thankfully, he was also completely asleep. Rorschach tried to jerk the door closed. Walter tried to open it wider. Consequently, it stayed exactly as it was - half-open and with an utterly flabbergasted vigilante motionless in the dark hallway, having a furious internal struggle with himself.
Daniel was stretched out on his right side, the sheet and plaid flannel comforter piled next to him. His left hand was draped carelessly over his hip and his brown hair spilled across his face. His mouth was open slightly. He was obviously having some kind of upsetting nightmare, his right hand absently fisting the sheet, torso twisting slightly back and forth, covered with a light, glistening sheen of sweat. As Walter's eyes traveled over his shadowed body, he couldn't help but notice that his partner was hard. Hard and breathing heavily. It was absolutely indecent, wanton.
That kind of dream.
Walter was no stranger to that kind of dream, but he always woke from them feeling ridiculous and ashamed of himself. Daniel, however, looked like he was very much enjoying whatever was going on in his head.
He was also not the only one breathing heavily. Walter was trying to decide whether he wanted to look at Daniel's moonlit face or his leaking cock and compromising by trying to take in the entire tableau. Rorschach was planning possible escape routes and methods of suicide. He took a tentative step further into the room and moved closer, very close to his partner's bed, totally entranced. He was aghast at himself, but seemed helpless to control his legs. Or eyes. Or, it seemed, his own cock. He was aware of the erection straining against the front of his purple pinstripes as he watched Daniel bite his lower lip in his sleep and his own tongue swept out to lick his lips, tasting the plasticky, salty flavors of the inside of his mask.
Unfortunately, Rorschach and Walter shared a stomach and it chose that moment to let off an absurdly loud growl that, to his horrified ears, seemed to go on for several minutes and echo around the room. He froze and closed his eyes in the vain and ridiculous hope that it would make him invisible, and opened them a half-second later.
Nite Owl was awake. Nite Owl was awake and looking at him. Rorschach wanted to hit him, and hit him hard, for having the nerve to sleep in the nude with an unlocked door so that any hapless wandering vigilante trying to steal food could walk in on him. Walter wanted to touch him. Both options seemed satisfying and vaguely enjoyable, but before he could consciously make a decision he found that his traitorous hand had stolen out and placed itself, horribly, on Daniel's hipbone. Rorschach looked at the hand as though it belonged to someone else entirely, an alien appendage that just happened to be stuck on the end of his arm.
Daniel reached up to him, acting as if it was a perfectly normal occurrence to find one's best friend hovering over one's bed in the middle of the night, seized him around the waist and pulled him down onto the bed. He rolled on top of the smaller man and ground his erection against Walter's. "Mmmmm," he breathed in the dark. "Christ, that fucking mask. Fuck. You're so. Uuuuunf. Come on, Rorschach, talk."
Walter opened his mouth and nothing came out, because Daniel had crushed his lips down on the inkblot mask. He left a trail of biting kisses from Walter's lower lip down the side of his neck and teeth closed sharply on the crook of his collarbone where the mask ended. Rorschach gasped out of shock and embarrassment and absolute incredulity that Nite Owl could be behaving in such a lewd and unacceptable fashion, Walter gasped because it felt sofuckinggood, and his treasonous body was responding with enthusiasm.
Daniel bit him three more times, punctuating the bites with words. "Talk," bite, "to," bite, "me." Sharp bite down on his left nipple through the fabric of his worn wifebeater. One of Walter's hands found Daniel's ass and grabbed it sharply, as though to reassure himself that he wasn't experiencing some kind of grotesque apparition. Daniel gasped. "Daniel... Daniel..." he managed throatily, "what the...Dan'l..."
"Call me Nite Owl!" his partner snarled, grinding their erections together. In the moonlight streaming through the window, Walter could see the red flush on the body above him. Daniel's hair hung in his face and one of his hands encircled one of Walter's wrists, pinning him down.
Walter had no idea what was going on and was fully keen on going along with it. "Nite Owl," he said, and Rorschach was appalled to hear it come out in his voice. He couldn't think of anything else to say - wasn't entirely sure he could remember any other words - and anyway he liked the sound of it, so he said it several more times as Daniel breathed raggedly, unfastening his pinstriped pants. He was biting his wet, pink lower lip and sucking it into his mouth a little, an expression Walter recognized from patrols as his "concentration face" and which was, under these circumstances, even more enticing than usual.
He pushed the pants down over Walter's hips, no small feat considering he could hardly bring himself to stop grinding his cock against his partner. He glanced down appreciatively at Walter's freed erection, precome leaking copiously across the crown, and raised an eyebrow in the moonlight. "Redhead tonight, huh?"
Walter's hips bucked up reflexively against his. He wasn't sure if Daniel wasn't making sense or if his own brain had given up and left the room. "Hurm?"
"You've never been a redhead in my dreams before. Blonde, brunette, everything except red - but I definitely like it. " He grinned. "Is that what's on your head, too? One of these days I'll find out. 'Course, you'd beat me to a pulp if you knew this was happening." The eyebrow quirked upward again. He shifted backwards until he was kneeling between Walter's legs, leaned down and grabbed the hips in front of him, a devilish expression on his face. Warm, moist breath ghosted across Walter's groin and his mind blew hollow like an egg as he processed what Daniel was saying.
"Dream?" he croaked, as his partner's tongue flicked out and swept across the head of his cock, licking away several pearly drops. One of Walter's hands fisted itself in Daniel's fine brown hair. Inside his head and apparently immune to the things Daniel was doing with his mouth, Rorschach was being extremely assertive. Tell the truth. Daniel is your friend. Thinks he's dreaming. He's addled, he'll never be the same if you allow him to act like your whore. Never forgive you. Tell the truth.
Walter screwed his eyes shut and went for broke. "Not a dream, Nite Owl," he ground out between clenched teeth as Daniel was running his tongue slowly, leisurely, maddeningly around the head of his cock.
The tongue froze and the hands gripping his hipbones tightened slowly until Walter felt his partner's thumbs digging almost painfully into his skin. One of the hands left and Walter chanced opening an eye. Daniel was pinching himself and looking into Rorschach's face with an expression that rapidly flickered between terror, disbelief, and extreme arousal.
"Rorschach?" Daniel said hoarsely. "I mean, obviously, but...oh, fuck. Rorschach." He sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair. Walter's eyes lingered on his pink, swollen lower lip. "I...I... "
"All right, Daniel," Walter managed, feeling faintly ridiculous. He was still hard and his pinstriped pants were around his thighs. Nite Owl's saliva was all over him. "It was my fault. Looking for something to eat. Wasn't sure where the kitchen was and..."
"You let me," Daniel interrupted him in a curiously flat whisper, "you let me." He leaned forward with a sudden movement - a birdlike movement - and wrapped his lips back around Walter's cock.
Walter made a startled "Hrrrrk!" noise, pushing his hips forward. He grabbed the back of Daniel's head. "D - Nite Owl - oh. Oh." Rorschach was trying to tell him that he was disgusting, that it was unacceptably repulsive to have another man's mouth on you at all, but Walter wasn't listening. Nothing was repulsive about it when that mouth was generous and wide and warm and belonged to Daniel Dreiberg, who knew he wasn't a dream and wanted him anyway.
One of Daniel's hands was gripping his hip again, just hard enough to hurt. His lips slid gracefully up and down Walter's cock in a delicious rhythm, other hand stroking himself to match the rhythm of his mouth. He looked up at Walter's face - Rorschach's face - through the brown hair that was falling into his eyes and even though Walter knew his own eyes were shielded by white and black splotches, he had the sudden and unmistakable feeling that Daniel was looking right at him, right into him. The sensation was at once so alarming and so arousing that his hand tightened in Daniel's hair, he pumped two or three times into the mouth around his cock, grunted and came so hard he felt like he might black out. He was only dimly aware of the next thirty seconds in which Daniel swallowed, shuddered, gasped, and splattered come all over the bedsheet. He sat back on his heels, breathing heavily, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Walter jerked his legs off the bed and pulled his pants back up over his hips, avoiding Daniel's eyes. He stood up and tugged his mask further down, remembering the feeling of Daniel's lips through the thin material (and simultaneously trying as hard as possible to put it out of his mind.) He could hear Daniel's breaths behind him, could hear Daniel standing up, and he took three long strides toward the door and the relative safety of the hallway. The hallway led to the Owl's Nest, which led to the tunnels, which led to the streets and then to his apartment where he could spend the rest of his life trying and failing not to relive the last thirty minutes.
Daniel's legs were longer, though. He caught up with the smaller man and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Rorschach?"
Walter tensed like a cat, his hand on the doorknob. "Nite Owl."
"We should probably talk about this," Daniel hazarded helplessly, and even though Walter wasn't looking at him he could picture Daniel's posture, his expression. His swollen lower lip.
"Nothing to talk about, Daniel." Rorschach is back now, Rorschach is disgusted but miserably confident and strong as always and he looks back, looks into Daniel's face. "Was just a dream."
He's out the door.